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Stories  by 


GAUTIER 


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STORIES 

BY 

GAUTIER 

STORIES 

BY 

HOFFMANN 

STORIES 

BY 

BALZAC 

STORIES 

BY 

STEELE 

STORIES 

BY 

ADDISON 

STORIES 

BY 

GOLDSMITH 

STORIES 

BY 

CHATEAUBRIAND 

STORIES 

BY 

POE 

STORIES 

BY 

NASH 

STORIES 

BY 

TOLSTOY 

STORIES 

BY 

BOCCACCIO 

STORIES 

BY 

MALORY 

And  from  'Arabian  Nights,'  the 

'Gesta  Romanorum,'  etc. 

Others 

in  Preparation. 

The  translations  by  Lefcadio  Hearn  of  Gautier's  Stories 

are   Copyright  in   the    United  States  of  America,  and 

this  Edition  has  been  printed  by  permission  of 

Messrs.  Brentano,  New  York. 


STORIES    BY 
THEOPHILE    GAUTIER 


THE  WORLD'S   STORY  TELLERS 
EDITED  BY  ARTHUR  RANSOME 


STORIES 

BY 

THEOPHILE   GAUTIER 

TRANSLATED  BY  LAFCADIO  HEARN 


NEW  YORK:   E.  P.  BUTTON  AND  COMPANY 

1908 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY   ESSAY xi 

CLARIMONDE I 

THE  mummy's    FOOT $2 

KING  CANDAULES 71 


1546040 


vU 


SUMMARISED   CHRONOLOGY 

TMophile  Gautier  zvas  born  at  Tarbes  ojt  August  20,  181 1, 

and  taken  to  Paris  in  1814.     He  was  sent  to  school  when  he 

was  eight,  but,  being  unable  to  bear  his  isolation,  was  taken 

away  and  sent  as  a  day-boy  to  the  Lyc^e  Charlemagne,  though 

he  learned  mostly  from  his  father.     He  was  introduced  as 

a  youth  to   Victor  Hugo,  and  took  a  prominent  part  in  the 

theatre  battle  between  Classicists  and  Romanticists  on  the 

presentaii07i   of  Hernani,  February   25,    1830.      His  first 

book,  of  poetry,  was  published  in  the  same  year,  his  second 

in  1832,  and  Les  Jeunes  France,  a  book  of  spirited  tales,  in 

1833.      Then,  being  asked  for  a   sensational  romance,  he 

wrote  Mademoiselle  de  Maupin,  almost  under  compulsion. 

His  father  used  to  lock  him  up  and  tell  him  he  should  not 

be  let  out  till  he  had  written  ten  pages.     The  book   was 

p7iblished  in  1836.     Fro?n  this  time  till  his  death  he  wrote 

continually  for  the  papers,  and  published  books  almost  every 

year,  of  which  the  most  important  are  Emaux  et  Camees, 

Romans  et  Contes,  Le  Capitaine  Fracasse,  Nouvelles,  and 

Le  Roman  de  la  Momie,  and  a  series  of  volumes  of  travels. 

He  died  on  June  23,  1872.     His  Histoire  du  Romantisme 

was  published  after  his  death,  as  well  as  several  volumes 

made  up  of  articles  he  had  contributed  to  newspapers  and 

reviews. 


INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY 

The  East  is  an  invention  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
We  have  only  to  look  at  the  works  of  Voltaire  or  of 
Goldsmith  to  see  that  the  Orient  did  not  exist  before 
the  time  of  the  Romantic  movement.     To  early  writers 
it   meant    nothing  but   polygamy,    moguls,    elephants, 
and  'bonzes,'  and   the   eighteenth-century   translation 
of  the  Arabian  Nights  did  little  more  than  supply  an 
entertaining  form   to  an  ironical    philosopher.     Even 
when     it    became    the    fashion    to    make    imaginary 
Orientals   expose   the   follies   of   the   West,   the   East 
had  not  yet  become  alive  for  us.     We  find  scarcely 
a  hint  in  the  hundred  and  twenty  letters  of  The  Citizen 
of  the    World  that   it  meant    more  than  a  dialectical 
expression  for  topsy-turvydom,  a  place  to  which  you 
could  refer  as  to  Lilliput  or  to  Brobdingnag,  useful  like 
the  X  of  algebra  in  illustrating  the  properties  of  other 
things.      The   first   glimmerings    of   discovery   are   in 
Beckford's    Vathek,  an  extravagant  book,   belittled  by 
a   schoolboyish    humour— as   when    the   Caliph   plays 
football  with  the  rotund  figure  of  the  Indian  Magician 
— but  written  by  a  man  to  whom  the  East  did  really 
mean  some  sort  of  gorgeous  dream. 


XIV  INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY 

For  the  East  is  not  an  expression  of  philosophy. 
or  of  geography,  but  of  temperament ;  it  is  a  dream 
that  has  led  many  to  leave  their  people  for  its  people, 
their  homes  for  desert  tents,  in  the  effort  to  turn 
its  conventions  into  realities  of  life.  Men  have  fallen 
in  love  with  it,  as  they  have  fallen  in  love  with  statues 
or  with  the  beautiful  women  of  pictures.  It  means 
more  than  itself,  like  a  man  whom  time  has  lifted  into 
Godhead.  It  has  been  given  the  compelling  power 
of  a  religion.  I  believe  it  was  an  invention  made 
possible  by  the  discovery  of  local  colour.  With  the 
emphasis  of  local  colour  came  an  emphasised  differ- 
ence in  places.  Minds  only  mildly  preferring  one  place 
to  another  when  both  are  vague,  most  vigorously  prefer 
one  or  other  place  when  both  are  realised  in  vivid 
detail,  and  can  be  readily  compared.  Fastidious 
minds  seeking  the  stage-properties  of  expression 
could  choose  them  in  the  booths  of  all  the  world. 
Men  who  did  not  care  for  the  settings  of  their  own 
lives  were  able  to  fill  out  their  dim  Arcadias  with 
detail,  and  vein  their  phantom  goddesses  with 
blood. 

The  East,  when  Gautier  was  growing  up  in  the  rich 
tastes  of  the  Romantic  movement,  was  ready  to  supply 
the  most  delicious  conventions.  It  was  there  like 
a  many-coloured  curtain  behind,  which  he  could  build 
a  world  less  entangled,  less  unmanageable  than  his 
own.  Its  newness  must  not  be  forgotten  in  con- 
sidering his  use  of  it,  and  in   thinking  of  his  use  of 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY  xv 

Antiquity  we  must  remember  that  it  was  as  novel  as 
the  East. 

Now  the  Antique  was  one  of  the  cudgels  with  which 
the  Classicists  tried  to  beat  the  heads  of  the  Romanti- 
cists in  the  battles  of  that  time.  It  did  not  mean 
to  Gautier  what  it  meant  to  them.  Its  metamorphosis 
was  simultaneous  with  the  birth  of  the  East,  and  had 
almost  the  same  cause.  Insisting  on  local  colour  in 
places,  the  Romanticists  insisted  also  on  local  colour 
in  humanity.  Cromwell  was  to  be  allowed  to  say  that 
he  had  the  parliament  in  his  bag  and  the  king  in 
his  pocket.  Caesar  was  to  be  allowed  to  talk  like 
a  man  and  even  to  be  one.  So  that  for  Gautier 
Antiquity  meant  not  a  cold  inhumanity  that  had  been 
beautiful,  but  a  warm,  full-blooded  life  that  worshipped 
simple,  energetic  gods,  and  found  expression  in  a 
thousand  ways  other  than  the  speech  of  blank  verse 
and  heroic  actions  that  had  been  so  often  repre- 
sented in  pictures  of  an  annoying  timidity  of  colour- 
ing. The  East  and  the  Antique  together  had 
been  touched  as  if  by  magic,  and  turned  from  the 
abstract  into  the  concrete,  from  the  heroic  into  the 
human,  and  so  into  the  very  material  for  personal 
expression. 

Gautier's  attitude  towards  the  East  is  not  unlike 
that  of  the  Elizabethans  towards  Arcadia.  Sir  Philip 
Sidney,  courtier,  soldier,  and  busy  statesman,  wrote 
in  terms  of  shepherds,  shepherdesses,  and  shipwrecked 
princes,    and  worked   in   an   ideal   atmosphere  where 


xvi  INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY 

no  cares  were  greater  than  love,  or  a  thorn  in  a  lamb's 
foot.     He,  with 

'  A  sweet  attractive  kinde  of  grace, 
A  full  assurance  given  by  lookes, 
Continual  comfort  in  a  face, 
The  lineaments  of  gospel  bookes,' 

seemed  to  belong  to  that  Golden  Age  which  has  never 
been  now,  but  always  long  ago.  And  Gautier,  busy 
writer  of  articles  and  travel-books,  massive  and  vividly 
alive,  could  not  persuade  himself  to  be  Parisian  and 
contemporary.  Nor  would  it  be  extravagant  to  compare 
him  with  the  pastoral  writers  of  to-day,  Celtic  and 
Gaelic,  who  like  him  Hft  their  emotions  into  a  simpler, 
more  congenial  atmosphere,  and  like  him  insist  con- 
tinually on  the  local  colour  of  their  dreams.  These 
writers,  sitting  in  London  or  in  Edinburgh,  hear, 
without  moving  from  their  comfortable  chairs,  the 
cry  of  the  curlew  on  the  moor,  and  are  transported 
to  a  quiet  bay,  half  enclosed  by  cliffs,  '  in  two  white 
curves,  like  the  wings  of  the  solander  when  she  hollows 
them  as  she  breasts  the  north  wind,'  and  under  the 
spells  of  an  intenser  imagined  life  find  their  own 
emotions  more  vivid  and  more  easily  expressed. 
Gautier,  sitting  in  Paris,  sees  the  swallows  fluttering 
about  the  roofs  and  flying  south  in  autumn. 

'  Je  comprends  tout  ce  quelles  disent, 
Car  le  po^te  est  un  oiseau  ; 
Mais  captif  ses  elans  se  brisent 
Centre  un  invisible  rdseau  ! 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY  xvii 

'  Des  ailes  !  des  ailes  !  des  ailes  ! 
Comme  dans  le  chant  de  Kuckert, 
Pour  voler  Ik-bas  avec  elles 
Au  soleil  d'or,  au  printemps  vert  ! ' 

That  cry  for  wings  is  the  keynote  of  his  most 
passionately  beautiful  work.  When  he  is  at  his  best ; 
when  he  is  not  projecting  young  men  with  a  mathe- 
matical freedom  of  morals  into  a  Western  society ; 
in  those  moments,  strung  like  rare  beads  along  the 
life  of  an  artist,  when  he  is  most  himself,  we  hear 
clipped  feathers  beat  against  the  bars.  He  sought 
to  escape  from  Paris  to  the  Enchanted  Islands,  and 
from  the  nineteenth  century  to  the  Golden  Age.  The 
Enchanted  Islands  he  had  identified  with  the  East, 
and  the  Golden  Age  was  the  time  of  the  Pharaohs  or 
of  the  making  of  the  Venus.  As  the  Christian  fingers 
his  crucifix  and  is  able  to  kneel  upon  the  footsteps  of 
the  throne,  so  Gautier  found  talismans  to  help  his 
dreams  to  their  desires.  A  mummy's  foot,  a  marble 
hand  took  him  to  the  times  he  loved,  or  half  revealed 
the  perfections  that  reality  refused.  A  curiosity  shop 
was  a  postern-gate  to  Heaven,  and  a  merchant  of 
antiquities  held  St.  Peter's  keys. 

His  art  is  that  of  making  his  dreams  come  true. 
He  is  not  an  observer  of  life,  like  Richardson,  Field- 
ing, or  De  Maupassant.  He  does  not  copy  the  surface 
of  contemporary  existence ;  but  cuts  away  all  but 
passion,  and  clothes  that  in  symbols  whose  strange- 
ness disentangled  it  and  helped  him  to  make  it  real. 

B 


xviii  INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY 

Beautiful  women  step  down  to  him  from  their  tapes- 
tries, and,  living  on  drops  of  his  blood,  come  back 
to  him  out  of  their  graves.  The  Princess  Hermonthis 
claims  her  little  foot  that  he  has  bought  as  a  paper- 
weight, and  takes  him  to  the  tomb  of  the  Pharaohs 
and  the  pre-adamite  kings  sitting  with  their  thousand 
peoples  waiting  for  the  final  day.  The  Pompeian 
harlot  is  brought  alive  by  the  love  of  a  youth  for  the 
imprint  her  perfect  breasts  have  left  in  molten  lava. 
He  is  ill  at  ease  in  his  most  famous  Rof/ian  de  la  Momie 
until  he  has  finished  with  the  Englishman  and  the 
doctor,  and  is  translating  the  scroll  of  papyrus  buried 
three  thousand  years  ago  with  Tahoser  in  the 
sarcophagus. 

But  it  is  too  easy  to  construct  a  man  out  of  his  work. 
It  is  more  interesting  to  compare  the  man  of  this 
world  with  the  man  he  would  have  liked  to  be,  and 
the  man  he  chose  to  express.  Gautier  was  not  pure 
dreamer.  Though  the  world  of  his  art  was  as  far 
from  the  world  of  Paris,  as  the  world  of  Mr.  Yeats 
from  the  world  of  London  or  Dublin,  he  was  not  a 
seer,  or  a  poet  between  whom  and  reality  hung  a 
veil  of  dreams.  He  was  a  solid  man,  one  of  whose 
proudest  memories  was  a  blow  that  registered  five 
hundred  and  thirty-two  pounds  on  an  automatic 
instrument,  the  result  of  daily  washing  down  five 
pounds  of  gory  mutton  with  three  bottles  of  red 
Bordeaux.  He  was  a  Porthos,  and  the  Gautier  of 
his  stories,  that  gorgeous  barbaric  figure,  was  his  boast. 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY  xix 

cherished  as  Porthos  cherished  his  dignity.  The  traits 
he  loved  in  himself  were  those  that  gave  colour  to 
his  fiction.  His  olive  skin,  his  strength,  his  vitality, 
his  scorn  of  the  religion  of  sacrifice — these  were  the 
details  he  caressed.  He  was  never  tired  of  insisting 
on  everything  that  helped  in  this  Oriental  and  Antique 
projection  of  himself.  His  hero  in  Mademoiselle  de 
Maupin  exclaims :  '  I  am  a  man  of  the  Homeric  times ; 
the  world  where  I  live  does  not  belong  to  me,  and 
I  do  not  understand  the  society  about  me.  Christ 
has  not  yet  come  for  me  ;  I  am  as  pagan  as  Alcibiades 
and  Phidias.  ...  I  find  the  earth  as  beautiful  as 
heaven,  and  I  think  that  perfection  of  form  is  virtue. 
I  love  a  statue  better  than  a  phantom,  and  full  noon 
better  than  twilight.  Three  things  please  me :  gold, 
marble  and  purple,  splendour,  solidity,  colour.'  When 
a  reviewer  described  him  as  a  being,  *  fat,  jovial,  and 
sanguinary,'  he  quotes  the  description  with  gratitude, 
and  explains  gleefully  that  it  refers  to  his  taste  for 
bull-fights.  He  begins  a  book :  '  People  have  often 
caricatured  us,  dressed  like  a  Turk,  cross-legged  on 
cushions.  .  .  .  The  caricature  is  only  an  exaggeration 
of  the  truth.'  That  was  how  he  liked  to  think  of 
himself,  and  how  he  would  like  to  be  imagined.  It 
is  interesting  to  know  that  he  was  a  kindly  bear  of  a 
man,  who  was  always  called  by  his  Christian  name, 
and  delighted  in  astonishing  his  friends  with  outbursts 
of  genius  served  up  in  a  joyous  obscenity. 

He  was  not  a  man  of  wealth  as  his  work  suggests ; 


XX  INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY 

but  an  extremely  industrious  journalist.  Like  Balzac, 
he  was  proud  of  his  prodigious  activity.  He  confesses 
that  he  wrote  about  three  hundred  volumes :  but  that 
is  the  estimate  of  Porthos;  his  biographer  puts  the 
number  at  sixty.  From  his  twenty-fifth  year  he  was 
an  artist  on  a  treadmill,  and  only  at  every  hundredth, 
or  two  hundredth,  or  three  hundredth  turn  of  the 
wheel  could  he  escape  for  a  little  and  try  to  satisfy 
himself.  That  is  why  his  poems  and  shorter  stories 
are  the  most  perfect  specimens  of  his  later  work. 
He  needed  things  that  could  be  roughed  out  in  a 
sitting  and  carried  about  without  risk  until  the  time 
when  he  could  work  on  them  again.  He  was  able  to 
hurry  out  of  sight  his  dozen  sheets  for  the  Fresse  or 
the  Figaro,  sit  down  on  his  cushions,  let  his  fingers 
run  through  the  long  hair  of  a  Persian  cat,  and  turn 
over  again  and  again  one  of  the  minute  Enamels  or 
Cameos  of  his  poetry.  In  so  small  a  space  he  could 
afford  to  be  fastidious.  He  could  take  up  the  little 
thing  a  week  later,  and  a  month  after  that,  and  file 
and  polish  it  to  his  content.  It  was  the  same  with 
the  stories.  The  storytelling  Gautier  was  a  Gautier 
on  holiday. 

He  was  a  complete  man,  and  could,  in  active  life, 
have  twisted  the  present  if  he  had  chosen.  But  he 
did  not  choose.  As  for  politics,  '  what  does  it  matter 
whether  one  is  ruled  by  a  sabre,  a  sprinkler  of  holy- 
water,  or  an  umbrella  ? '  He  has  been  censured  for 
this,  but  the  censure  means  no  more  than  to  say  he 


INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY  xxi 

was  a  perfect  artist  unfortunately  not  interested  in 
local  government.  One  does  not  ask  a  shoemaker 
if  his  soles  and  uppers  are  Socialist  or  only  gentle 
Liberal.  As  for  his  own  life,  he  worked  hard  brought 
up  his  children,  but  found  his  emotions  too  intricate 
to  please  him.  He  had  to  separate  them,  and 
translate  them  into  terms  of  another  time  and  place. 
Modernity  rattled  past  him,  like  the  chariots  of  the 
king  past  the  potter,  who  would  not  look  up  from 
his  wheel  lest  an  ugly  curve  should  throw  awry  the 
vessel  he  was  shaping.  Gautier  did  his  duty  by  this 
world  and  left  it,  discovering  for  others  what  Baude- 
laire called  '  the  consolation  of  the  arts,'  and  finding 
peace  himself  in  the  less  encumbered  simplicity  of  his 
Ancient  and  Oriental  Arcadia. 

His  work  was  the  construction  of  a  paradise  for 
himself  in  which  other  people  are  allowed  to  walk. 
His  stories  are  a  substitute  for  opium  and  haschisch, 
and  take  us  into  a  world  like  that  of  old  romance  and 
myth,  where  we  meet  our  own  souls  walking  in  strange 
clothes.  'Art,'  says  Santayana,  'so  long  as  it  needs 
to  be  a  dream,  will  never  cease  to  be  a  disappointment.' 
We  leave  a  volume  of  Gautier  as  we  leave  the 
Mabinogion,  or  the  Morte  Darthur,  or  the  Volsunga 
Saga,  or  a  book  of  fairytales.  We  have  to  readjust 
ourselves  before  meeting  the  difficulties  of  life.  But 
opposite  Santayana's  sentence  we  may  set  one  from 
Mahomet.  '  If  any  man  have  two  loaves,  let  him  sell 
one,  and  buy  flowers  of  the  white  narcissus ;  for  the 


xxii  INTRODUCTORY  ESSAY 

one  is  food  for  the  body  and  the  other  is  food  for 
the  soul'  And  perhaps  this  art,  where  the  world  is 
simplified  into  the  conventions  of  a  tapestry,  by  its 
intense  appeal  to  primitive  emotions,  may  help  us 
like  a  touchstone  to  distinguish  between  the  things 
to  which  more  than  lip-service  is  slavery,  and  the 
things  to  which  less  than  life-service  is  death. 

ARTHUR  RANSOME. 


CLARIMONDE^ 

Brother,  you  ask  me  if  I  have  ever  loved.  Yes. 
My  story  is  a  strange  and  terrible  one;  and  though 
I  am  sixty-six  years  of  age,  I  scarcely  dare  even  now 
to  disturb  the  ashes  of  that  memory.  To  you  I  can 
refuse  nothing ;  but  I  should  not  relate  such  a  tale  to 
any  less  experienced  mind.  So  strange  were  the  cir- 
cumstances of  my  story,  that  I  can  scarcely  believe 
myself  to  have  ever  actually  been  a  party  to  them. 
For  more  than  three  years  I  remained  the  victim  of  a 
most  singular  and  diabolical  illusion.  Poor  country 
priest  though  I  was,  I  led  every  night  in  a  dream — 
would  to  God  it  had  been  all  a  dream  ! — a  most 
worldly  life,  a  damning  life,  a  life  of  Sardanapalus. 
One  single  look  too  freely  cast  upon  a  woman  well- 
nigh  caused  me  to  lose  my  soul ;  but  finally  by  the 
grace  of  God  and  the  assistance  of  my  patron  saint,  I 
succeeded  in  casting  out  the  evil  spirit  that  possessed 
me.  My  daily  life  was  long  interwoven  with  a  nocturnal 
life  of  a  totally  different  character.  By  day  I  was  a 
priest  of  the  Lord,  occupied  with  prayer  and  sacred 
^  La  Morte  Anioureuse. 


2  CLARIMONDE 

things  ;  by  night,  from  the  instant  that  I  closed  my  eyes 
I  became  a  young  nobleman,  a  fine  connoisseur  in 
women,  dogs,  and  horses ;  gambling,  drinking,  and 
blaspheming ;  and  when  I  awoke  at  early  daybreak,  it 
seemed  to  me,  on  the  other  hand,  that  I  had  been 
sleeping,  and  had  only  dreamed  that  I  was  a  priest. 
Of  this  somnambulistic  life  there  now  remains  to  me 
only  the  recollection  of  certain  scenes  and  words 
which  I  cannot  banish  from  my  memory;  but  al- 
though I  never  actually  left  the  walls  of  my  presbytery, 
one  would  think  to  hear  me  speak  that  I  were  a  man 
who,  weary  of  all  worldly  pleasures,  had  become  a 
religious,  seeking  to  end  a  tempestuous  life  in  the 
service  of  God,  rather  than  a  humble  seminarist  who 
has  grown  old  in  this  obscure  curacy,  situated  in  the 
depths  of  the  woods  and  even  isolated  from  the  life 
of  the  century. 

Yes,  I  have  loved  as  none  in  the  world  ever  loved — 
with  an  insensate  and  furious  passion — so  violent  that 
I  am  astonished  it  did  not  cause  my  heart  to  burst 
asunder.     Ah,  what  nights — what  nights  ! 

From  my  earliest  childhood  I  had  felt  a  vocation  to 
the  priesthood,  so  that  all  my  studies  were  directed 
with  that  idea  in  view.  Up  to  the  age  of  twenty-four 
my  life  had  been  only  a  prolonged  novitiate.  Having 
completed  my  course  of  theology  I  successively  re- 
ceived all  the  minor  orders,  and  my  superiors  judged 
me  worthy,  despite  my  youth,  to  pass  the  last  awful 
degree.     My  ordination  was  fixed  for  Easter  week. 


CLARIMONDE  3 

I  had  never  gone  into  the  world.  My  world  was 
confined  by  the  walls  of  the  college  and  the  seminary.  I 
knew  in  a  vague  sort  of  a  way  that  there  was  some- 
thing called  Woman,  but  I  never  permitted  my 
thoughts  to  dwell  on  such  a  subject,  and  I  lived  in  a 
state  of  perfect  innocence.  Twice  a  year  only  I  saw 
my  infirm  and  aged  mother,  and  in  those  visits  were 
comprised  my  sole  relations  with  the  outer  world. 

I  regretted  nothing ;  I  felt  not  the  least  hesitation 
at  taking  the  last  irrevocable  step  ;  I  was  filled  with  joy 
and  impatience.  Never  did  a  betrothed  lover  count 
the  slow  hours  with  more  feverish  ardour;  I  slept  only 
to  dream  that  I  was  saying  mass ;  I  believed  there 
could  be  nothing  in  the  world  more  delightful  than  to 
be  a  priest ;  I  would  have  refused  to  be  a  king  or  a 
poet  in  preference.  My  ambition  could  conceive  of 
no  loftier  aim. 

I  tell  you  this  in  order  to  show  you  that  what  hap- 
pened to  me  could  not  have  happened  in  the  natural 
order  of  things,  and  to  enable  you  to  understand 
that  I  was  the  victim  of  an  inexplicable  fascination. 

At  last  the  great  day  came.  I  walked  to  the  church 
with  a  step  so  light  that  I  fancied  myself  sustained 
in  air,  or  that  I  had  wings  upon  my  shoulders.  I 
believed  myself  an  angel,  and  wondered  at  the  sombre 
and  thoughtful  faces  of  my  companions,  for  there 
were  several  of  us.  I  had  passed  all  the  night  in 
prayer,  and  was  in  a  condition  wellnigh  bordering  on 
ecstasy.     The  bishop,  a  venerable  old  man,   seemed 


4  CLARIMONDE 

to  me  God  the  Father  leaning  over  His  Eternity, 
and  I  beheld  Heaven  through  the  vault  of  the 
temple. 

You  well  know  the  details  of  that  ceremony — the 
benediction,  the  communion  under  both  forms,  the 
anointing  of  the  palms  of  the  hands  with  the  Oil  of 
Catechumens,  and  then  the  holy  sacrifice  offered  in 
concert  with  the  bishop. 

Ah,  truly  spake  Job  when  he  declared  that  the  im- 
prudent man  is  one  who  hath  not  made  a  covenant 
with  his  eyes  !  I  accidentally  lifted  my  head,  which 
until  then  I  had  kept  down,  and  beheld  before  me,  so 
close  that  it  seemed  that  I  could  have  touched  her — 
although  she  was  actually  a  considerable  distance  from 
me  and  on  the  further  side  of  the  sanctuary  railing — 
a  young  woman  of  extraordinary  beauty,  and  attired 
with  royal  magnificence.  It  seemed  as  though  scales 
had  suddenly  fallen  from  my  eyes.  I  felt  like  a 
blind  man  who  unexpectedly  recovers  his  sight.  The 
bishop,  so  radiantly  glorious  but  an  instant  before, 
suddenly  vanished  away,  the  tapers  paled  upon  their 
golden  candlesticks  like  stars  in  the  dawn,  and  a  vast 
darkness  seemed  to  fill  the  whole  church.  The  charm- 
ing creature  appeared  in  bright  relief  against  the  back- 
ground of  that  darkness,  like  some  angelic  revelation. 
She  seemed  herself  radiant,  and  radiating  light  rather 
than  receiving  it. 

I  lowered  my  eyelids,  firmly  resolved  not  to  again 
open  them,  that  I  might  not  be  influenced  by  external 


CLARIMONDE  5 

objects,  for  distraction  had  gradually  taken  possession 
of  me  until  I  hardly  knew  what  I  was  doing. 

In  another  minute,  nevertheless,  I  reopened  my  eyes, 
for  through  my  eyelashes  I  still  beheld  her,  all  spark- 
ling with  prismatic  colours,  and  surrounded  with  such 
a  penumbra  as  one  beholds  in  gazing  at  the  sun. 

Oh,  how  beautiful  she  was  !  The  greatest  painters, 
who  followed  ideal  beauty  into  heaven  itself,  and 
thence  brought  back  to  earth  the  true  portrait  of  the 
Madonna,  never  in  their  delineations  even  approached 
that  wildly  beautiful  reality  which  I  saw  before  me. 
Neither  the  verses  of  the  poet  nor  the  palette  of  the 
artist  could  convey  any  conception  of  her.  She  was 
rather  tall,  with  a  form  and  bearing  of  a  goddess.  Her 
hair,  of  a  soft  blonde  hue,  was  parted  in  the  midst  and 
flowed  back  over  her  temples  in  two  rivers  of  rippling 
gold ;  she  seemed  a  diademed  queen.  Her  forehead, 
bluish-white  in  its  transparency,  extended  its  calm 
breadth  above  the  arches  of  her  eyebrows,  which  by  a 
strange  singularity  were  almost  black,  and  admirably 
relieved  the  effect  of  sea-green  eyes  of  unsustainable 
vivacity  and  brilliancy.  What  eyes  !  With  a  single 
flash  they  could  have  decided  a  man's  destiny.  They 
had  a  life,  a  limpidity,  an  ardour,  a  humid  light  which 
I  have  never  seen  in  human  eyes ;  they  shot  forth 
rays  like  arrows,  which  I  could  distinctly  see  enter  my 
heart.  I  know  not  if  the  fire  which  illumined  them 
came  from  heaven  or  from  hell,  but  assuredly  it  came 
from  one  or  the  other.     That  woman  was  either  an 


6  CLARIMONDE 

angel  or  a  demon,  perhaps  both.  Assuredly  she  never 
sprang  from  the  flank  of  Eve,  our  common  mother. 
Teeth  of  the  most  lustrous  pearl  gleamed  in  her  ruddy 
smile,  and  at  every  inflection  of  her  lips  little  dimples 
appeared  in  the  satiny  rose  of  her  adorable  cheeks. 
There  was  a  delicacy  and  pride  in  the  regal  outline  of 
her  nostrils  bespeaking  noble  blood.  Agate  gleams 
played  over  the  smooth  lustrous  skin  of  her  half-bare 
shoulders,  and  strings  of  great  blonde  pearls — almost 
equal  to  her  neck  in  beauty  of  colour — descended 
upon  her  bosom.  From  time  to  time  she  elevated  her 
head  with  the  undulating  grace  of  a  startled  serpent  or 
peacock,  thereby  imparting  a  quivering  motion  to  the 
high  lace  ruff  which  surrounded  it  like  a  silver  trellis- 
work. 

She  wore  a  robe  of  orange-red  velvet,  and  from  her 
wide  ermine-lined  sleeves  there  peeped  forth  patrician 
hands  of  infinite  delicacy,  and  so  ideally  transparent 
that,  like  the  fingers  of  Aurora,  they  permitted  the 
light  to  shine  through  them. 

All  these  details  I  can  recollect  at  this  moment  as 
plainly  as  though  they  were  of  yesterday,  for  notwith- 
standing I  was  greatly  troubled  at  the  time,  nothing 
escaped  me ;  the  faintest  touch  of  shading,  the  little 
dark  speck  at  the  point  of  the  chin,  the  imperceptible 
down  at  the  corners  of  the  lips,  the  velvety  floss  upon 
the  brow,  the  quivering  shadows  of  the  eyelashes  upon 
the  cheeks — I  could  notice  everything  with  astonishing 
lucidity  of  perception. 


CLARIMONDE  7 

And  gazing  I  felt  opening  within  me  gates  that  had 
until   then    remained   closed;    vents   long   obstructed 
became  all  clear,  permitting  glimpses  of  unfamiliar  per- 
spectives within  ;  life  suddenly  made  itself  visible  to  me 
under  a  totally  novel  aspect.     I  felt  as  though  I  had 
just  been  born  into  a  new  world  and  a  new  order  of 
things.     A   frightful    anguish    commenced   to   torture 
my  heart  as  with  red-hot  pincers.     Every  successive 
minute  seemed  to  me  at  once  but  a  second  and  yet 
a  century.     Meanwhile  the  ceremony  was  proceeding, 
and  I  shortly  found  myself  transported  far  from  that 
world  of  which  my  newly  born  desires  were  furiously 
besieging    the    entrance.      Nevertheless    I    answered 
'  Yes '  when  I  wished  to  say  '  No,'  though  all  within 
me  protested  against  the  violence  done  to  my  soul 
by  my  tongue.     Some  occult  power  seemed  to  force 
the  words  from   my  throat  against  my  will.     Thus  it 
is,   perhaps,    that   so    many  young    girls  walk   to  the 
altar  firmly  resolved  to  refuse  in  a  startling  manner 
the  husband  imposed   upon  them,  and  that  yet  not 
one  ever  fulfils  her  intention.     Thus  it  is,  doubtless, 
that  so  many  poor  novices  take  the  veil,  though  they 
have  resolved  to  tear  it  into  shreds  at  the  moment 
when  called  upon  to  utter  the  vows.    One  dares  not 
thus    cause   so   great   a   scandal   to   all    present,    nor 
deceive  the  expectation  of  so  many  people.     All  those 
eyes,  all  those  wills  seem  to  weigh  down  upon  you  like 
a  cope  of  lead,  and,  moreover,  measures  have  been  so 
well  taken,  everything  has  been  so  thoroughly  arranged 


8  CLARIMONDE 

beforehand  and  after  a  fashion  so  evidently  irrevocable, 
that  the  will  yields  to  the  weight  of  circumstances  and 
utterly  breaks  down. 

As  the  ceremony  proceeded  the  features  of  the  fair 
unknown  changed  their  expression.  Her  look  had  at 
first  been  one  of  caressing  tenderness;  it  changed  to 
an  air  of  disdain  and  of  mortification,  as  though  at  not 
having  been  able  to  make  itself  understood. 

With  an  effort  of  will  sufficient  to  have  uprooted 
a  mountain,  I  strove  to  cry  out  that  I  would  not  be 
a  priest,  but  I  could  not  speak ;  my  tongue  seemed 
nailed  to  my  palate,  and  I  found  it  impossible  to 
express  my  will  by  the  least  syllable  of  negation. 
Though  fully  awake,  I  felt  like  one  under  the  in- 
fluence of  a  nightmare,  who  vainly  strives  to  shriek 
out  the  one  word  upon  which  life  depends. 

She  seemed  conscious  of  the  martyrdom  I  was 
undergoing,  and,  as  though  to  encourage  me,  she 
gave  me  a  look  replete  with  divinest  promise.  Her 
eyes  were  a  poem  ;  their  every  glance  was  a  song. 

She  said  to  me  : 

'  If  thou  wilt  be  mine,  I  shall  make  thee  happier 
than  God  Himself  in  His  paradise.  The  angels  them- 
selves will  be  jealous  of  thee.  Tear  off  that  funeral 
shroud  in  which  thou  art  about  to  wrap  thyself.  I  am 
Beauty,  I  am  Youth,  I  am  Life.  Come  to  me !  To- 
gether we  shall  be  Love.  Can  Jehovah  offer  thee 
aught  in  exchange?  Our  lives  will  flow  on  like  a 
dream,  in  one  eternal  kiss. 


CLARIMONDE  9 

'Fling  forth  the  wine  of  that  chalice,  and  thou  art 
free.  I  will  conduct  thee  to  the  Unknown  Isles. 
Thou  shalt  sleep  in  my  bosom  upon  a  bed  of  massy 
gold  under  a  silver  pavilion,  for  I  love  thee  and  would 
take  thee  away  from  thy  God,  before  whom  so  many 
noble  hearts  pour  forth  floods  of  love  which  never 
reach  even  the  steps  of  His  throne  ! ' 

These  words  seemed  to  float  to  my  ears  in  a 
rhythm  of  infinite  sweetness,  for  her  look  was  actually 
Eonorous,  and  the  utterances  of  her  eyes  were  re- 
echoed in  the  depths  of  my  heart  as  though  living 
lips  had  breathed  them  into  my  life.  I  felt  myself 
willing  to  renounce  God,  and  yet  my  tongue  mechanic- 
ally fulfilled  all  the  formalities  of  the  ceremony.  The 
fair  one  gave  me  another  look,  so  beseeching,  so 
despairing  that  keen  blades  seemed  to  pierce  my  heart, 
and  I  felt  my  bosom  transfixed  by  more  swords  than 
those  of  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows. 

All  was  consummated ;  I  had  become  a  priest. 

Never  was  deeper  anguish  painted  on  human  face 
than  upon  hers.  The  maiden  who  beholds  her 
affianced  lover  suddenly  fall  dead  at  her  side,  the 
mother  bending  over  the  empty  cradle  of  her  child, 
Eve  seated  at  the  threshold  of  the  gate  of  Paradise, 
the  miser  who  finds  a  stone  substituted  for  his  stolen 
treasure,  the  poet  who  accidentally  permits  the  only 
manuscript  of  his  finest  work  to  fall  into  the  fire,  could 
not  wear  a  look  so  despairing,  so  inconsolable.  All 
the  blood  had  abandoned  her  charming  face,  leaving 


lo  CLARIMONDE 

it  whiter  than  marble ;  her  beautiful  arms  hung  life- 
lessly on  either  side  of  her  body  as  though  their 
muscles  had  suddenly  relaxed,  and  she  sought  the 
support  of  a  pillar,  for  her  yielding  limbs  almost 
betrayed  her.  As  for  myself,  I  staggered  toward  the 
door  of  the  church,  livid  as  death,  my  forehead  bathed 
with  a  sweat  bloodier  than  that  of  Calvary ;  I  felt  as 
though  I  were  being  strangled;  the  vault  seemed  to 
have  flattened  down  upon  my  shoulders,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  my  head  alone  sustained  the  whole  weight 
of  the  dome. 

As  I  was  about  to  cross  the  threshold  a  hand 
suddenly  caught  mine  —  a  woman's  hand  !  I  had 
never  till  then  touched  the  hand  of  any  woman.  It 
was  cold  as  a  serpent's  skin,  and  yet  its  impress 
remained  upon  my  wrist,  burnt  there  as  though 
branded  by  a  glowing  iron.  It  was  she.  '  Unhappy 
man  !  Unhappy  man  !  What  hast  thou  done  ? '  she 
exclaimed  in  a  low  voice,  and  immediately  disappeared 
in  the  crowd. 

The  aged  bishop  passed  by.  He  cast  a  severe  and 
scrutinising  look  upon  me.  My  face  presented  the 
wildest  aspect  imaginable :  I  blushed  and  turned  pale 
alternately ;  dazzling  lights  flashed  before  my  eyes, 
A  companion  took  pity  on  me.  He  seized  my  arm 
and  led  me  out.  I  could  not  possibly  have  found  my 
way  back  to  the  seminary  unassisted.  At  the  corner 
of  a  street,  while  the  young  priest's  attention  was 
momentarily   turned    in    another    direction,    a   negro 


CLARIMONDE 


II 


page,  fantastically  garbed,  approached  me,  and  with- 
out pausing  on  his  way  slipped  into  my  hand  a  little 
pocket-book  with  gold-embroidered  corners,  at  the 
same  time  giving  me  a  sign  to  hide  it.  I  concealed 
it  in  my  sleeve,  and  there  kept  it  until  I  found  my- 
self alone  in  my  cell.  Then  I  opened  the  clasp. 
There  were  only  two  leaves  within,  bearing  the  words, 
'Clarimonde.  At  the  Concini  Palace.'  So  little 
acquainted  was  I  at  that  time  with  the  things  of  this 
world  that  I  had  never  heard  of  Clarimonde,  cele- 
brated as  she  was,  and  I  had  no  idea  as  to  where  the 
Concini  Palace  was  situated.  I  hazarded  a  thousand 
conjectures,  each  more  extravagant  than  the  last;  but, 
in  truth,  I  cared  little  whether  she  were  a  great  lady  or 
a  courtesan,  so  that  I  could  but  see  her  once  more. 

My  love,  although  the  growth  of  a  single  hour,  had 
taken  imperishable  root.  I  did  not  even  dream  of 
attempting  to  tear  it  up,  so  fully  was  I  convinced  such 
a  thing  would  be  impossible.  That  woman  had  com- 
pletely taken  possession  of  me.  One  look  from  her 
had  sufficed  to  change  my  very  nature.  She  had 
breathed  her  will  into  my  life,  and  I  no  longer  lived 
in  myself,  but  in  her  and  for  her.  I  gave  myself  up 
to  a  thousand  extravagancies.  I  kissed  the  place  upon 
my  hand  which  she  had  touched,  and  I  repeated  her 
name  over  and  over  again  for  hours  in  succession.  I 
only  needed  to  close  my  eyes  in  order  to  see  her  dis- 
tinctly as  though  she  were  actually  present ;  and  I  re- 
iterated to  myself  the  words  she  had  uttered  in  my  ear 

c 


12  CLARIMONDE 

at  the  church  porch  :  '  Unhappy  man  !  Unhappy  man  ! 
What  hast  thou  done  ? '  I  comprehended  at  last  the 
full  horror  of  my  situation,  and  the  funereal  and  awful 
restraints  of  the  state  into  which  I  had  just  entered 
became  clearly  revealed  to  me.  To  be  a  priest  1 — that 
is,  to  be  chaste,  to  never  love,  to  observe  no  distinction 
of  sex  or  age,  to  turn  from  the  sight  of  all  beauty,  to 
put  out  one's  own  eyes,  to  hide  for  ever  crouching  in 
the  chill  shadows  of  some  church  or  cloister,  to  visit 
none  but  the  dying,  to  watch  by  unknown  corpses,  and 
ever  bear  about  with  one  the  black  soutane  as  a  garb 
of  mourning  for  oneself,  so  that  your  very  dress  might 
serve  as  a  pall  for  your  coffin. 

And  I  felt  life  rising  within  me  like  a  subterranean 
lake,  expanding  and  overflowing;  my  blood  leaped 
fiercely  through  my  arteries ;  my  long-restrained  youth 
suddenly  burst  into  active  being,  like  the  aloe  which 
blooms  but  once  in  a  hundred  years,  and  then  bursts 
into  blossom  with  a  clap  of  thunder. 

What  could  I  do  in  order  to  see  Clarimonde  once 
more  ?  I  had  no  pretext  to  offer  for  desiring  to  leave 
the  seminary,  not  knowing  any  person  in  the  city.  I 
would  not  even  be  able  to  remain  there  but  a  short 
time,  and  was  only  waiting  my  assignment  to  the  curacy 
which  I  must  thereafter  occupy.  I  tried  to  remove 
the  bars  of  the  window ;  but  it  was  at  a  fearful  height 
from  the  ground,  and  I  found  that  as  I  had  no  ladder 
it  would  be  useless  to  think  of  escaping  thus.  And, 
furthermore,  I  could  descend  thence  only  by  night  in 


CLARIMONDE  13 

any  event,  and  afterward  how  should  I  be  able  to  find 
my  way  through  the  inextricable  labyrinth  of  streets  ? 
All  these  difficulties,  which  to  many  would  have 
appeared  altogether  insignificant,  were  gigantic  to  me, 
a  poor  seminarist  who  had  fallen  in  love  only  the  day 
before  for  the  first  time,  v/ithout  experience,  without 
money,  without  attire. 

'  Ah  ! '  cried  I  to  myself  in  my  blindness,  '  were  I 
not  a  priest  I  could  have  seen  her  every  day ;  I  might 
have  been  her  lover,  her  spouse.  Instead  of  being 
wrapped  in  this  dismal  shroud  of  mine  I  would  have 
had  garments  of  silk  and  velvet,  golden  chains,  a 
sword,  and  fair  plumes  like  other  handsome  young 
cavaliers.  My  hair,  instead  of  being  dishonoured  by 
the  tonsure,  would  flow  down  upon  my  neck  in  waving 
curls ;  I  would  have  a  fine  waxed  moustache  ;  I  would 
be  a  gallant.'  But  one  hour  passed  before  an  altar,  a 
few  hastily  articulated  words,  had  for  ever  cut  me  off 
from  the  number  of  the  living,  and  I  had  myself  sealed 
down  the  stone  of  my  own  tomb ;  I  had  with  my  own 
hand  bolted  the  gate  of  my  prison  ! 

I  went  to  the  window.  The  sky  was  beautifully 
blue  ;  the  trees  had  donned  their  spring  robes ;  nature 
seemed  to  be  making  parade  of  an  ironical  joy.  The 
Place  was  filled  with  people,  some  going,  others 
coming ;  young  beaux  and  young  beauties  were 
sauntering  in  couples  toward  the  groves  and  gardens  \ 
merry  youths  passed  by,  cheerily  trolling  refrains  of 
drinking-songs — it  was  all  a  picture  of  vivacity,  life, 


14  CLARIMONDE 

animation,  gaiety,  which  formed  a  bitter  contrast  with 
my  mourning  and  my  solitude.  On  the  steps  of  the  gate 
sat  a  young  mother  playing  with  her  child.  She  kissed 
its  little  rosy  mouth  still  impearled  with  drops  of  milk, 
and  performed,  in  order  to  amuse  it,  a  thousand  divine 
little  puerilities  such  as  only  mothers  know  how  to  in- 
vent. The  father  standing  at  a  little  distance  smiled 
gently  upon  the  charming  group,  and  with  folded  arms 
seemed  to  hug  his  joy  to  his  heart.  I  could  not  endure 
that  spectacle.  I  closed  the  window  with  violence,  and 
flung  myself  on  my  bed,  my  heart  filled  with  frightful 
hate  and  jealousy,  and  gnawed  my  fingers  and  my  bed- 
covers like  a  tiger  that  has  passed  ten  days  without 
food. 

I  know  not  how  long  I  remained  in  this  condition, 
but  at  last,  while  writhing  on  the  bed  in  a  fit  of 
spasmodic  fury,  I  suddenly  perceived  the  Abbe 
Serapion,  who  was  standing  erect  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  watching  me  attentively.  Filled  with  shame  of 
myself,  I  let  my  head  fall  upon  my  breast  and  covered 
my  face  with  my  hands. 

*  Romuald,  my  friend,  something  very  extraordinary 
is  transpiring  within  you,'  observed  Serapion,  after  a 
few  moments'  silence  ;  '  your  conduct  is  altogether  in- 
explicable. You — always  so  quiet,  so  pious,  so  gentle 
— you  to  rage  in  your  cell  like  a  wild  beast !  Take 
heed,  brother — do  not  listen  to  the  suggestions  of  the 
devil.  The  Evil  Spirit,  furious  that  you  have  conse- 
crated yourself  for  ever  to  the  Lord,  is  prowling  around 


CLARI  MONDE  15 

you  like  a  ravening  wolf  and  making  a  last  effort  to 
obtain  possession  of  you.  Instead  of  allowing  yourself 
to  be  conquered,  my  dear  Romuald,  make  to  yourself 
a  cuirass  of  prayers,  a  buckler  of  mortifications,  and 
combat  the  enemy  like  a  valiant  man  ;  you  will  then 
assuredly  overcome  him.  Virtue  must  be  proved  by 
temptation,  and  gold  comes  forth  purer  from  the  hands 
of  the  assayer.  Fear  not.  Never  allow  yourself  to 
become  discouraged.  The  most  watchful  and  stead- 
fast souls  are  at  moments  liable  to  such  temptation. 
Pray,  fast,  meditate,  and  the  Evil  Spirit  will  depart 
from  you.' 

The  words  of  the  Abbe  Serapion  restored  me  to  my- 
self, and  I  became  a  little  more  calm.  '  I  came,'  he 
continued,  '  to  tell  you  that  you  have  been  appointed 

to  the  curacy  of  C .     The  priest  who  had  charge 

of  it  has  just  died,  and  Monseigneur  the  Bishop  has 
ordered  me  to  have  you  installed  there  at  once.  Be 
ready,  therefore,  to  start  to-morrow.'  I  responded 
with  an  inclination  of  the  head,  and  the  Abbe  retired. 
I  opened  my  missal  and  commenced  reading  some 
prayers,  but  the  letters  became  confused  and  blurred 
under  my  eyes,  the  thread  of  the  ideas  entangled  itself 
hopelessly  in  my  brain,  and  the  volume  at  last  fell 
from  my  hands  without  my  being  aware  of  it. 

To  leave  to-morrow  without  having  been  able  to  see 
her  again,  to  add  yet  another  barrier  to  tiie  many 
already  interposed  between  us,  to  lose  for  ever  all  hope 
of  being  able  to  meet  her,  except,  indeed,  through  a 


i6  CLARIMONDE 

miracle  !  Even  to  write  to  her,  alas  !  would  be  im- 
possible, for  by  whom  could  I  dispatch  my  letter  ? 
With  my  sacred  character  of  priest,  to  whom  could  I 
dare  unbosom  myself,  in  whom  could  I  confide  ?  I 
became  a  prey  to  the  bitterest  anxiety. 

Then  suddenly  recurred  to  me  the  words  of  the 
Abbe  Serapion  regarding  the  artifices  of  the  devil ; 
and  the  strange  character  of  the  adventure,  the  super- 
natural beauty  of  Clarimonde,  the  phosphoric  light  of 
her  eyes,  the  burning  imprint  of  her  hand,  the  agony 
into  which  she  had  thrown  me,  the  sudden  change 
wrought  within  me  when  all  my  piety  vanished  in 
a  single  instant — these  and  other  things  clearly  testi- 
fied to  the  work  of  the  Evil  One,  and  perhaps  that 
satiny  hand  was  but  the  glove  which  concealed  his 
claws.  Filled  with  terror  at  these  fancies,  I  again 
picked  up  the  missal  which  had  slipped  from  my  knees 
and  fallen  upon  the  floor,  and  once  more  gave  myself 
up  to  prayer. 

Next  morning  Serapion  came  to  take  me  away. 
Two  mules  freighted  with  our  miserable  valises  awaited 
us  at  the  gate.  He  mounted  one,  and  I  the  other  as 
well  as  I  knew  how. 

As  we  passed  along  the  streets  of  the  city,  I  gazed 
attentively  at  all  the  windows  and  balconies  in  the  hope 
of  seeing  Clarimonde,  but  it  was  yet  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  the  city  had  hardly  opened  its  eyes.  Mine 
sought  to  penetrate  the  blinds  and  window-curtains  of 
all  the  palaces  before  which  we  were  passing.     Serapion 


CLARIMONDE  17 

doubtless  attributed  this  curiosity  to  niy  admiration 
of  the  architecture,  for  he  slackened  the  pace  of  his 
animal  in  order  to  give  me  time  to  look  around  me.  At 
last  we  passed  the  city  gates  and  commenced  to  mount 
the  hill  beyond.  When  we  arrived  at  its  summit  I 
turned  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  place  where  Clarimonde 
dwelt.  The  shadow  of  a  great  cloud  hung  over  all  the 
city  ;  the  contrasting  colours  of  its  blue  and  red  roofs 
were  lost  in  the  uniform  half-tint,  through  which  here 
and  there  floated  upward,  like  white  flakes  of  foam,  the 
smoke  of  freshly  kindled  fires.  By  a  singular  optical 
effect  one  edifice,  which  surpassed  in  height  all  the 
neighbouring  buildings  that  were  still  dimly  veiled 
by  the  vapours,  towered  up,  fair  and  lustrous  with 
the  gilding  of  a  solitary  beam  of  sunlight — although 
actually  more  than  a  league  away  it  seemed  quite  near. 
The  smallest  details  of  its  architecture  were  plainly  dis- 
tinguishable— the  turrets,  the  platforms,  the  window- 
casements,  and  even  the  swallow-tailed  weather-vanes. 

'What  is  that  palace  I  see  over  there,  all  lighted  up 
by  the  sun  ?  '  I  asked  Serapion.  He  shaded  his  eyes 
with  his  hand,  and  having  looked  in  the  direction  in- 
dicated, replied :  '  It  is  the  ancient  palace  which  the 
Prince  Concini  has  given  to  the  courtesan  Clarimonde. 
Awful  things  are  done  there  ! ' 

At  that  instant,  I  know  not  yet  whether  it  was  a  reality 
or  an  illusion,  I  fancied  I  saw  gliding  along  the  terrace 
a  shapely  white  figure,  which  gleamed  for  a  moment  in 
passing  and  as  quickly  vanished.     It  was  Clarimonde. 


i8  CLARIMONDE 

Oh,  did  she  know  that  at  that  very  hour,  all  feverish 
and  restless— from  the  height  of  the  rugged  road  which 
separated  me  from  her,  and  which,  alas  !  I  could  never 
more  descend — I  was  directing  my  eyes  upon  the 
palace  where  she  dwelt,  and  which  a  mocking  beam  of 
sunlight  seemed  to  bring  nigh  to  me,  as  though  inviting 
me  to  enter  therein  as  its  lord  ?  Undoubtedly  she 
must  have  known  it,  for  her  soul  was  too  sympathetic- 
ally united  with  mine  not  to  have  felt  its  least  emotional 
thrill,  and  that  subtle  sympathy  it  must  have  been  which 
prompted  her  to  climb — although  clad  only  in  her 
nightdress— to  the  summit  of  the  terrace,  amid  the  icy 
dews  of  the  morning. 

The  shadow  gained  the  palace,  and  the  scene  became 
to  the  eye  only  a  motionless  ocean  of  roofs  and  gables, 
amid  which  one  mountainous  undulation  was  distinctly 
visible.  Serapion  urged  his  mule  forward,  my  own  at 
once  followed  at  the  same  gait,  and  a  sharp  angle  in  the 
road  at  last  hid  the  city  of  S— —  for  ever  from  my  eyes, 
as  I  was  destined  never  to  return  thither.  At  the  close 
of  a  weary  three-days'  journey  through  dismal  country 
fields,  we  caught  sight  of  the  cock  upon  the  steeple  of 
the  church  which  I  was  to  take  charge  of,  peeping 
above  the  trees,  and  after  having  followed  some  wind- 
ing roads  fringed  with  thatched  cottages  and  little 
gardens,  we  found  ourselves  in  front  of  the  facade, 
which  certainly  possessed  few  features  of  magnificence. 
A  porch  ornamented  with  some  mouldings,  and  two  or 
three  pillars  rudely  hewn  from  sandstone ;  a  tiled  roof 


CLARIMONDE  19 

with  counterforts  of  the  same  sandstone  as  the  pillars — 
that  was  all.  To  the  left  lay  the  cemetery,  overgrown 
with  high  weeds,  and  having  a  great  iron  cross  rising  up 
in  its  centre ;  to  the  right  stood  the  presbytery  under 
the  shadow  of  the  church.  It  was  a  house  of  the  most 
extreme  simplicity  and  frigid  cleanliness.  We  entered 
the  enclosure.  A  few  chickens  were  picking  up  some 
oats  scattered  upon  the  ground ;  accustomed,  seem- 
ingly, to  the  black  habit  of  ecclesiastics,  they  showed 
no  fear  of  our  presence  and  scarcely  troubled  them- 
selves to  get  out  of  our  way.  A  hoarse,  wheezy 
barking  fell  upon  our  ears,  and  we  saw  an  aged  dog 
running  toward  us. 

It  was  my  predecessor's  dog.  He  had  dull  bleared 
eyes,  grizzled  hair,  and  every  mark  of  the  greatest  age 
to  which  a  dog  can  possibly  attain.  I  patted  him 
gently,  and  he  proceeded  at  once  to  march  along  beside 
me  with  an  air  of  satisfaction  unspeakable.  A  very  old 
woman,  who  had  been  the  housekeeper  of  the  former 
cure,  also  carne  to  meet  us,  and  after  having  invited  me 
into  a  little  back  parlour,  asked  whether  I  intended  to 
retain  her.  I  replied  that  I  would  take  care  of  her,  and 
the  dog,  and  the  chickens,  and  all  the  furniture  her 
master  had  bequeathed  her  at  his  death.  At  this  she 
became  fairly  transported  with  joy,  and  the  Abbe 
Serapion  at  once  paid  her  the  price  which  she  asked 
for  her  little  property. 

As  soon  as  my  installation  was  over,  the  Abbe 
Serapion  returned  to  the  seminary.     I  was,  therefore. 


20  CLARIMONDE 

left  alone,  with  no  one  but  myself  to  look  to  for  aid  or 
counsel.  The  thought  of  Clarimonde  again  began  to 
haunt  me,  and  in  spite  of  all  my  endeavours  to  banish 
it,  I  always  found  it  present  in  my  meditations.  One 
evening,  vehile  promenading  in  my  little  garden  along 
the  walks  bordered  with  box-plants,  I  fancied  that  I  saw 
through  the  elm-trees  the  figure  of  a  woman,  who 
followed  my  every  movement,  and  that  I  beheld  two 
sea-green  eyes  gleaming  through  the  foliage ;  but  it  was 
only  an  illusion,  and  on  going  round  to  the  other  side 
of  the  garden,  I  could  find  nothing  except  a  footprint 
on  the  sanded  walk — a  footprint  so  small  that  it  seemed 
to  have  been  made  by  the  foot  of  a  child.  The  garden 
was  enclosed  by  very  high  walls.  I  searched  every 
nook  and  corner  of  it,  but  could  discover  no  one  there. 
I  have  never  succeeded  in  fully  accounting  for  this  cir- 
cumstance, which,  after  all,  was  nothing  compared  with 
the  strange  things  which  happened  to  me  afterward. 

For  a  whole  year  I  lived  thus,  filling  all  the  duties  of 
my  calling  with  the  most  scrupulous  exactitude,  pray- 
ing and  fasting,  exhorting  and  lending  ghostly  aid 
to  the  sick,  and  bestowing  alms  even  to  the  extent  of 
frequently  depriving  myself  of  the  very  necessaries 
of  life.  But  I  felt  a  great  aridness  within  me,  and  the 
sources  of  grace  seemed  closed  against  me.  I  never 
found  that  happiness  which  should  spring  from  the 
fulfilment  of  a  holy  mission ;  my  thoughts  were  far 
away,  and  the  words  of  Clarimonde  were  ever  upon  my 
lips  like  an  involuntary  refrain.     Oh,  brother,  meditate 


CLARIMONDE  21 

well  on  this !  Through  having  but  once  lifted  my  eyes 
to  look  upon  a  woman,  through  one  fault  apparently  so 
venial,  I  have  for  years  remained  a  victim  to  the  most 
miserable  agonies,  and  the  happiness  of  my  life  has 
been  destroyed  for  ever. 

I  will  not  longer  dwell  upon  those  defeats,  or  on 
those  inward  victories  invariably  followed  by  yet  more 
terrible  falls,  but  will  at  once  proceed  to  the  facts  of  my 
story.  One  night  my  door-bell  was  long  and  violently 
rung.  The  aged  housekeeper  arose  and  opened  to  the 
stranger,  and  the  figure  of  a  man,  whose  complexion 
was  deeply  bronzed,  and  who  was  richly  clad  in  a 
foreign  costume,  with  a  poniard  at  his  girdle,  appeared 
under  the  rays  of  Barbara's  lantern.  Her  first  impulse 
was  one  of  terror,  but  the  stranger  reassured  her,  and 
stated  that  he  desired  to  see  me  at  once  on  matters  re- 
lating to  my  holy  calUng.  Barbara  invited  him  upstairs, 
where  I  was  on  the  point  of  retiring.  The  stranger  told 
me  that  his  mistress,  a  very  noble  lady,  was  lying  at  the 
point  of  death,  and  desired  to  see  a  priest.  I  replied 
that  I  was  prepared  to  follow  him,  took  with  me  the 
sacred  articles  necessary  for  extreme  unction,  and 
descended  in  all  haste.  Two  horses  black  as  the  night 
itself  stood  without  the  gate,  pawing  the  ground  with 
impatience,  and  veiling  their  chests  with  long  streams  of 
smoky  vapour  exhaled  from  their  nostrils.  He  held 
the  stirrup  and  aided  me  to  mount  upon  one ;  then, 
merely  laying  his  hand  upon  the  pommel  of  the  saddle, 
he  vaulted  on  the  other,  pressed  the  animal's  sides  with 


2  2  CLARIMONDE 

his  knees,  and  loosened  rein.  The  horse  bounded 
forward  with  the  velocity  of  an  arrow.  Mine,  of  which 
the  stranger  held  the  bridle,  also  started  off  at  a  swift 
gallop,  keeping  up  with  his  companion.  We  devoured 
the  road.  The  ground  flowed  backward  beneath  us  in 
a  long  streaked  line  of  pale  gray,  and  the  black  sil- 
houettes of  the  trees  seemed  fleeing  by  us  on  either 
side  like  an  army  in  rout.  We  passed  through  a  forest 
so  profoundly  gloomy  that  I  felt  my  flesh  creep  in  the 
chill  darkness  with  superstitious  fear.  The  showers  of 
bright  sparks  which  flew  from  the  stony  road  under  the 
ironshod  feet  of  our  horses  remained  glowing  in  our 
wake  like  a  fiery  trail ;  and  had  any  one  at  that  hour  of 
the  night  beheld  us  both — my  guide  and  myself — he 
must  have  taken  us  for  two  spectres  riding  upon  night- 
mares. Witch-fires  ever  and  anon  flitted  across  the 
road  before  us,  and  the  night-birds  shrieked  fearsomely 
in  the  depth  of  the  woods  beyond,  where  we  beheld  at 
intervals  glow  the  phosphorescent  eyes  of  wild  cats. 
The  manes  of  the  horses  became  more  and  more 
dishevelled,  the  sweat  streamed  over  their  flanks,  and 
their  breath  came  through  their  nostrils  hard  and  fast. 
But  when  he  found  them  slacking  pace,  the  guide 
reanimated  them  by  uttering  a  strange,  gutteral,  un- 
earthly cry,  and  the  gallop  recommenced  with  fury.  At 
last  the  whirlwind  race  ceased ;  a  huge  black  mass 
pierced  through  with  many  bright  points  of  light  sud- 
denly rose  before  us,  the  hoofs  of  our  horses  echoed 
louder  upon  a  strong  wooden  drawbridge,  and  we  rode 


CLARIMONDE  23 

under  a  great  vaulted  archway  which  darkly  yawned 
between  two  enormous  towers.  Some  great  excitement 
evidently  reigned  in  the  castle.  Servants  with  torches 
were  crossing  the  courtyard  in  every  direction,  and 
above  lights  were  ascending  and  descending  from  land- 
ing to  landing.  I  obtained  a  confused  glimpse  of  vast 
masses  of  architecture — columns,  arcades,  flights  of 
steps,  stairways — a  royal  voluptuousness  and  elfin  mag- 
nificence of  construction  worthy  of  fairyland.  A  negro 
page — the  same  who  had  before  brought  me  the  tablet 
from  Clarimonde,  and  whom  I  instantly  recognised — 
approached  to  aid  me  in  dismounting,  and  the  major- 
domo,  attired  in  black  velvet  with  a  gold  chain  about 
his  neck,  advanced  to  meet  me,  supporting  himself 
upon  an  ivory  cane.  Large  tears  were  falling  from  his 
eyes  and  streaming  over  his  cheeks  and  white  beard. 
*Too  late! '  he  cried,  sorrowfully  shaking  his  venerable 
head.  '  Too  late,  sir  priest!  But  if  you  have  not  been 
able  to  save  the  soul,  come  at  least  to  watch  by  the 
poor  body.' 

He  took  my  arm  and  conducted  me  to  the  death- 
chamber.  I  wept  not  less  bitterly  than  he,  for  I  had 
learned  that  the  dead  one  was  none  other  than  that 
Clarimonde  whom  I  had  so  deeply  and  so  wildly  loved. 
Kprie-dieu  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  ;  a  bluish  flame 
flickering  in  a  bronze  patera  filled  all  the  room  with  a 
wan,  deceptive  light,  here  and  there  bringing  out  in  the 
darkness  at  intervals  some  projection  of  furniture  or 
cornice.     In  a  chiselled  urn  upon  the  table  there  was 


24  .    CLARIMONDE 

a  faded  white  rose,  whose  leaves — excepting  one  that 
still  held — had  all  fallen,  like  odorous  tears,  to  the  foot 
of  the  vase.  A  broken  black  mask,  a  fan,  and  dis- 
guises of  every  variety,  which  were  lying  on  the  arm- 
chairs, bore  witness  that  death  had  entered  suddenly 
and  unannounced  into  that  sumptuous  dwelling.  With- 
out daring  to  cast  my  eyes  upon  the  bed,  I  knelt  down 
and  commenced  to  repeat  the  Psalms  for  the  Dead, 
with  exceeding  fervour,  thanking  God  that  He  had 
placed  the  tomb  between  me  and  the  memory  of  this 
woman,  so  that  I  might  thereafter  be  able  to  utter  her 
name  in  my  prayers  as  a  name  for  ever  sanctified  by 
death.  But  my  fervour  gradually  weakened,  and  I  fell 
insensibly  into  a  reverie.  That  chamber  bore  no  sem- 
blance to  a  chamber  of  death.  In  lieu  of  the  fetid  and 
cadaverous  odours  which  I  had  been  accustomed  to 
breathe  during  such  funereal  vigils,  a  languorous  vapour 
of  Oriental  perfume — I  know  not  what  amorous  odour 
of  woman — softly  floated  through  the  tepid  air.  That 
pale  light  seemed  rather  a  twilight  gloom  contrived  for 
voluptuous  pleasure,  than  a  substitute  for  the  yellow- 
flickering  watch-tapers  which  shine  by  the  side  of 
corpses.  I  thought  upon  the  strange  destiny  which 
enabled  me  to  meet  Clarimonde  again  at  the  very 
moment  when  she  was  lost  to  me  for  ever,  and  a  sigh 
of  regretful  anguish  escaped  from  my  breast.  Then  it 
seemed  to  me  that  some  one  behind  me  had  also 
sighed,  and  I  turned  round  to  look.  It  was  only  an 
echo.     But  in  that  moment  my  eyes  fell  upon  the  bed 


CLARIMONDE  25 

of  death  which  they  had  till  then  avoided.  The  red 
damask  curtains,  decorated  with  large  flowers  worked 
in  embroidery  and  looped  up  with  gold  bullion,  per- 
mitted me  to  behold  the  fair  dead,  lying  at  full  length, 
with  hands  joined  upon  her  bosom.  She  was  covered 
with  a  linen  wrapping  of  dazzling  whiteness,  which 
formed  a  strong  contrast  with  the  gloomy  purple  of  the 
hangings,  and  was  of  so  fine  a  texture  that  it  concealed 
nothing  of  her  body's  charming  form,  and  allowed  the 
eye  to  follow  those  beautiful  outlines — undulating  Hke 
the  neck  of  a  swan — which  even  death  bad  not  robbed 
of  their  supple  grace.  She  seemed  an  alabaster  statue 
executed  by  some  skilful  sculptor  to  place  upon  the  tomb 
of  a  queen,  or  rather,  perhaps,  like  a  slumbering  maiden 
over  whom  the  silent  snow  had  woven  a  spotless  veil. 

I  could  no  longer  maintain  my  constrained  attitude 
of  prayer.  The  air  of  the  alcove  intoxicated  me,  that 
febrile  perfume  of  half-faded  roses  penetrated  my  very 
brain,  and  I  commenced  to  pace  restlessly  up  and 
down  the  chamber,  pausing  at  each  turn  before  the 
bier  to  contemplate  the  graceful  corpse  lying  beneath 
the  transparency  of  its  shroud.  Wild  fancies  came 
thronging  to  my  brain.  I  thought  to  myself  that  she 
might  not,  perhaps,  be  really  dead;  that  she  might 
only  have  feigned  death  for  the  purpose  of  bringing 
me  to  her  castle,  and  then  declaring  her  love.  At  one 
time  I  even  thought  I  saw  her  foot  move  under  the 
whiteness  of  the  coverings,  and  slightly  disarrange  the 
long  straight  folds  of  the  winding-sheet. 


26  CLARIMONDE 

And  then   I  asked   myself:   'Is  this  indeed  Clari- 

monde?     What  proof  have  I  that  it  is  she?     Might 

not  that  black  page  have  passed  into  the  service  of 

some   other  lady?     Surely,  1  must  be  going  mad  to 

torture    and    afflict    myself    thus!'       But    my   heart 

answered  with  a  fierce  throbbing  :  '  It  is  she  ;  it  is  she 

indeed  ! '     I  approached  the  bed  again,  and  fixed  my 

eyes  with  redoubled  attention  upon  the  object  of  my 

incertitude.     Ah,   must  I   confess  it?    That  exquisite 

perfection  of  bodily  form,  although  purified  and  made 

sacred   by  the   shadow   of  death,    affected   me   more 

voluptuously   than    it   should   have    done;    and   that 

repose  so  closely  resembled  slumber  that  one  might 

well  have  mistaken  it  for  such.     I  forgot  that  I  had 

come  there  to  perform  a  funeral  ceremony  ;  I  fancied 

myself  a  young  bridegroom  entering  the  chamber  of 

the  bride,  who  all  modestly  hides  her  fair  face,  and 

through  coyness  seeks  to  keep  herself  wholly  veiled. 

Heartbroken  with  grief,  yet  wild  with  hope,  shuddering 

at  once  with  fear  and  pleasure,  I  bent  over  her  and 

grasped  the   corner   of  the   sheet.     I    lifted   it   back, 

holding  my  breath  all  the  while  through  fear  of  waking 

her.     My  arteries   throbbed  with   such  violence   that 

I  felt  them  hiss  through  my  temples,  and  the  sweat 

poured  from  my  forehead  in  streams,  as  though  I  had 

lifted  a   mighty  slab  of  marble.     There,   indeed,   lay 

Clarimonde,  even  as  I  had  seen  her  at  the  church  on 

the  day  of  my  ordination.     She  was  not  less  charming 

than    then.      With    her,    death    seemed    but    a    last 


CLARIMONDE  27 

coquetry.  The  pallor  of  her  cheeks,  the  less  brilliant 
carnation  of  her  lips,  her  long  eyelashes  lowered  and 
relieving  their  dark  fringe  against  that  white  skin,  lent 
her  an  unspeakably  seductive  aspect  of  melancholy 
chastity  and  mental  suffering ;  her  long  loose  hair,  still 
intertwined  with  some  little  blue  flowers,  made  a 
shining  pillow  for  her  head,  and  veiled  the  nudity  of 
her  shoulders  with  its  thick  ringlets ;  her  beautiful 
hands,  purer,  more  diaphanous,  than  the  Host,  were 
crossed  on  her  bosom  in  an  attiude  of  pious  rest  and 
silent  prayer,  which  served  to  counteract  all  that  might 
have  proven  otherwise  too  alluring — even  after  death — 
in  the  exquisite  roundness  and  ivory  polish  of  her  bare 
arms  from  which  the  pearl  bracelets  had  not  yet  been 
removed.  I  remained  long  in  mute  contemplation, 
and  the  more  I  gazed,  the  less  could  I  persuade  myself 
that  life  had  really  abandoned  that  beautiful  body 
for  ever.  I  do  not  know  whether  it  was  an  illusion  or 
a  reflection  of  the  lamplight,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  blood  was  again  commencing  to  circulate  under 
that  lifeless  pallor,  although  she  remained  all  motion- 
less. I  laid  my  hand  lightly  on  her  arm  ;  it  was  cold, 
but  not  colder  than  her  hand  on  the  day  when  it 
touched  mine  at  the  portals  of  the  church.  I  resumed 
my  position,  bending  my  face  above  her,  and  bathing 
her  cheek  with  the  warm  dew  of  my  tears.  Ah,  what 
bitter  feelings  of  despair  and  helplessness,  what  agonies 
unutterable  did  I  endure  in  that  long  watch  !  Vainly 
did  I  wish  that  I  could  have  gathered  all  my  life  into 

D 


28  CLARIMONDE 

one  mass  that  I  might  give  it  all  to  her,  and  breathe 
into  her  chill  remains  the  flame  which  devoured  me. 
The  night  advanced,  and  feeling  the  moment  of  eternal 
separation  approach,  I  could  not  deny  myself  the  last 
sad  sweet  pleasure  of  imprinting  a  kiss  upon  the  dead 
lips  of  her  who  had  been  my  only  love.  .  .  .  Oh, 
miracle !  A  faint  breath  mingled  itself  with  my 
breath,  and  the  mouth  of  Ciarimonde  responded  to  the 
passionate  pressure  of  mine.  Her  eyes  unclosed,  and 
lighted  up  with  something  of  their  former  brilliancy ; 
she  uttered  a  long  sigh,  and  uncrossing  her  arms,  passed 
them  around  my  neck  with  a  look  of  ineffable  delight. 
*  Ah,  it  is  thou,  Romuald  ! '  she  murmured  in  a  voice 
languishingly  sweet  as  the  last  vibrations  of  a  harp. 
'  What  ailed  thee,  dearest  ?  I  waited  so  long  for  thee 
that  I  am  dead ;  but  we  are  now  betrothed  :  I  can  see 
thee  and  visit  thee.  Adieu,  Romuald,  adieu  !  I  love 
thee.  That  is  all  I  wished  to  tell  thee,  and  I  give  thee 
back  the  life  which  thy  kiss  for  a  moment  recalled. 
We  shall  soon  meet  again.' 

Her  head  fell  back,  but  her  arms  yet  encircled  me, 
as  though  to  retain  me  still.  A  furious  whirlwind 
suddenly  burst  in  the  window,  and  entered  the 
chamber.  The  last  remaining  leaf  of  the  white  rose 
for  a  moment  palpitated  at  the  extremity  of  the  stalk 
like  a  butterfly's  wing,  then  it  detached  itself  and  flew 
forth  through  the  open  casement,  bearing  with  it  the 
soul  of  Ciarimonde.  The  lamp  was  extinguished,  and 
I  fell  insensible  upon  the  bosom  of  the  beautiful  dead. 


CLARIMONDE  29 

When  I  came  to  myself  again  I  was  lying  on  the 
bed  in  my  little  room  at  the  presbytery,  and  the  old 
dog  of  the  former  cure  was  licking  my  hand,  which 
had  been  hanging  down  outside  of  the  covers. 
Barbara,  all  trembling  with  age  and  anxiety,  was 
busying  herself  about  the  room,  opening  and  shutting 
drawers,  and  emptying  powders  into  glasses.  On 
seeing  me  open  my  eyes,  the  old  woman  uttered  a 
cry  of  joy,  the  dog  yelped  and  wagged  his  tail,  but  I 
was  still  so  weak  that  I  could  not  speak  a  single  word 
or  make  the  slightest  motion.  Afterward  I  learned 
that  I  had  lain  thus  for  three  days,  giving  no  evidence 
of  life  beyond  the  faintest  respiration.  Those  three 
days  do  not  reckon  in  my  life,  nor  could  I  ever 
imagine  whither  my  spirit  had  departed  during  those 
three  days ;  I  have  no  recollection  of  aught  relating 
to  them.  Barbara  told  me  that  the  same  coppery- 
complexioned  man  who  came  to  seek  me  on  the  night 
of  my  departure  from  the  presbytery  had  brought  me 
back  the  next  morning  in  a  close  litter,  and  departed 
immediately  afterward.  When  I  became  able  to 
collect  my  scattered  thoughts,  I  reviewed  within  my 
mind  all  the  circumstances  of  that  fateful  night.  At 
first  I  thought  I  had  been  the  victim  of  some  magical 
illusion,  but  ere  long  the  recollection  of  other  circum- 
stances, real  and  palpable  in  themselves,  came  to 
forbid  that  supposition.  I  could  not  believe  that  I 
had  been  dreaming,  since  Barbara  as  well  as  myself 
had  seen  the  strange  man  with  his  two  black  horses, 


30  CLARIMONDE 

and  described  with  exactness  every  detail  of  his  figure 
and  apparel.  Nevertheless  it  appeared  that  none  knew 
of  any  castle  in  the  neighbourhood  answering  to  the 
description  of  that  in  which  I  had  again  found 
Clarimonde. 

One  morning  I  found  the  Abbe  Serapion  in  my 
room.  Barbara  had  advised  him  that  I  was  ill,  and 
he  had  come  with  all  speed  to  see  me.  Although  this 
haste  on  his  part  testified  to  an  affectionate  interest  in 
me,  yet  his  visit  did  not  cause  me  the  pleasure  which 
it  should  have  done.  The  Abbe  Serapion  had  some- 
thing penetrating  and  inquisitorial  in  his  gaze  which 
made  me  feel  very  ill  at  ease.  His  presence  filled  me 
with  embarrassment  and  a  sense  of  guilt.  At  the  first 
glance  he  divined  my  interior  trouble,  and  I  hated 
him  for  his  clairvoyance. 

While  he  inquired  after  my  health  in  hypocritically 
honeyed  accents,  he  constantly  kept  his  two  great  yellow 
lion-eyes  fixed  upon  me,  and  plunged  his  look  into 
my  soul  like  a  sounding-lead.  Then  he  asked  me 
how  I  directed  my  parish,  if  I  was  happy  in  it,  how 
I  passed  the  leisure  hours  allowed  me  in  the  intervals 
of  pastoral  duty,  whether  I  had  become  acquainted 
with  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  place,  what  was 
my  favourite  reading,  and  a  thousand  other  such 
questions.  I  answered  these  inquiries  as  briefiy  as 
possible,  and  he,  without  ever  waiting  for  my  answers, 
passed  rapidly  from  one  subject  of  query  to  another. 
That  conversation  had  evidently  no  connection  with 


CLARIMONDE  31 

what  he  actually  wished  to  say.  At  last,  without  any 
premonition,  but  as  though  repeating  a  piece  of  news 
which  he  had  recalled  on  the  instant,  and  feared  might 
otherwise  be  forgotten  subsequently,  he  suddenly  said, 
in  a  clear  vibrant  voice,  which  rang  in  my  ears  like 
the  trumpets  of  the  Last  Judgment : 

'  The  great  courtesan  Clarimonde  died  a  few  days  ago, 
at  the  close  of  an  orgie  which  lasted  eight  days  and 
eight  nights.  It  was  something  infernally  splendid. 
The  abominations  of  the  banquets  of  Belshazzar  and 
Cleopatra  were  re-enacted  there.  Good  God,  what  age 
are  we  living  in  ?  The  guests  were  served  by  swarthy 
slaves  who  spoke  an  unknown  tongue,  and  who 
seemed  to  me  to  be  veritable  demons.  The  livery 
of  the  very  least  among  them  would  have  served  for 
the  gala-dress  of  an  emperor.  There  have  always  been 
very  strange  stories  told  of  this  Clarimonde,  and  all 
her  lovers  came  to  a  violent  or  miserable  end.  They 
used  to  say  that  she  was  a  ghoul,  a  female  vami>ire; 
but  I  believe  she  was  none  other  than  Beelzebub 
himself.' 

He  ceased  to  speak,  and  commenced  to  regard  me 
more  attentively  than  ever,  as  though  to  observe  the 
effect  of  his  words  on  me.  I  could  not  refrain  from 
starting  when  I  heard  him  utter  the  name  of  Clari- 
monde, and  this  news  of  her  death,  in  addition  to  the 
pain  it  caused  me  by  reason  of  its  coincidence  with 
the  nocturnal  scenes  I  had  witnessed,  filled  me  with 
an  agony  and  terror  which  my  face  betrayed,  despite 


32  CLARIMONDE 

my  utmost  endeavours  to  appear  composed.  Serapion 
fixed  an  anxious  and  severe  look  upon  me,  and  then 
observed :  '  My  son,  I  must  warn  you  that  you  are 
standing  with  foot  raised  upon  the  brink  of  an  abyss ; 
take  heed  lest  you  fall  therein.  Satan's  claws  are  long, 
and  tombs  are  not  always  true  to  their  trust.  The 
tombstone  of  Clarimonde  should  be  sealed  down  with 
a  triple  seal,  for,  if  report  be  true,  it  is  not  the  first 
time  she  has  died.  May  God  watch  over  you, 
Romuald ! ' 

And  with  these  words  the  Abbe  walked  slowly  to 
the  door.  I  did  not  see  him  again  at  that  time,  for 
he  left  for  S almost  immediately. 

I  became  completely  restored  to  health  and  resumed 
my  accustomed  duties.  The  memory  of  Clarimonde 
and  the  words  of  the  old  Abbe  were  constantly  in 
my  mind;  nevertheless  no  extraordinary  event  had 
occurred  to  verify  the  funereal  predictions  of  Serapion, 
and  I  had  commenced  to  believe  that  his  fears  and 
my  own  terrors  were  over-exaggerated,  when  one  night 
I  had  a  strange  dream.  I  had  hardly  fallen  asleep 
when  I  heard  my  bed-curtains  drawn  apart,  as  their 
rings  slided  back  upon  the  curtain  rod  with  a  sharp 
sound.  I  rose  up  quickly  upon  my  elbow,  and  beheld 
the  shadow  of  a  woman  standing  erect  before  me.  I 
recognised  Clarimonde  immediately.  She  bore  in 
her  hand  a  little  lamp,  shaped  like  those  which  are 
placed  in  tombs,  and  its  light  lent  her  fingers  a  rosy 
transparency,  which  extended  itself  by  lessening  degrees 


CLARIMONDE  33 

even  to  the  opaque  and  milky  whiteness  of  her  bare 
arm.  Her  only  garment  was  the  linen  winding-sheet 
which  had  shrouded  her  when  lying  upon  the  bed  of 
death.  She  sought  to  gather  its  folds  over  her  bosom 
as  though  ashamed  of  being  so  scantily  clad,  but  her 
little  hand  was  not  equal  to  the  task.  She  was  so 
white  that  the  colour  of  the  drapery  blended  with 
that  of  her  flesh  under  the  pallid  rays  of  the  lamp. 
Enveloped  with  this  subtle  tissue  which  betrayed  all 
the  contour  of  her  body,  she  seemed  rather  the  marble 
statue  of  some  fair  antique  bather  than  a  woman 
endowed  with  life.  But  dead  or  living,  statue  or 
woman,  shadow  or  body,  her  beauty  was  still  the  same, 
only  that  the  green  light  of  her  eyes  was  less  brilliant, 
and  her  mouth,  once  so  warmly  crimson,  was  only 
tinted  with  a  faint  tender  rosiness,  Uke  that  of  her 
cheeks.  The  little  blue  flowers  which  I  had  noticed 
entwined  in  her  hair  were  withered  and  dry,  and  had 
lost  nearly  all  their  leaves,  but  this  did  not  prevent 
her  from  being  charming — so  charming  that,  notwith- 
standing the  strange  character  of  the  adventure,  and 
the  unexplainable  manner  in  which  she  had  entered 
my  room,  I  felt  not  even  for  a  moment  the  least 
fear. 

She  placed  the  lamp  on  the  table  and  seated  herself 
at  the  foot  of  my  bed ;  then  bending  toward  me,  she 
said,  in  that  voice  at  once  silvery  clear  and  yet  velvety 
in  its  sweet  softness,  such  as  I  never  heard  from  any 
lips  save  hers : 


34  CLARIMONDE 

'I  have  kept  thee  long  in  waiting,  dear  Romuald, 
and  it  must  have  seemed  to  thee  that  I  had  forgotten 
thee.  But  I  come  from  afar  off,  very  far  off,  and  from 
a  land  whence  no  other  has  ever  yet  returned.  There 
is  neither  sun  nor  moon  in  that  land  whence  I  come  : 
all  is  but  space  and  shadow ;  there  is  neither  road  nor 
pathway :  no  earth  for  the  foot,  no  air  for  the  wing ; 
and  nevertheless  behold  me  here,  for  Love  is  stronger 
than  Death  and  must  conquer  him  in  the  end.  Oh 
what  sad  faces  and  fearful  things  I  have  seen  on  my 
way  hither !  What  difificulty  my  soul,  returned  to 
earth  through  the  power  of  will  alone,  has  had  in 
finding  its  body  and  reinstating  itself  therein  !  What 
terrible  efforts  I  had  to  make  ere  I  could  lift  the 
ponderous  slab  with  which  they  had  covered  me ! 
See,  the  palms  of  my  poor  hands  are  all  bruised ! 
Kiss  them,  sweet  love,  that  they  may  be  healed ! ' 
She  laid  the  cold  palms  of  her  hands  upon  my  mouth, 
one  after  the  other.  I  kissed  them,  indeed,  many  times, 
and  she  the  while  watched  me  with  a  smile  of  ineffable 
affection, 

I  confess  to  my  shame  that  I  had  entirely  forgotten 
the  advice  of  the  Abbe  Serapion  and  the  sacred  office 
wherewith  I  had  been  invested.  I  had  fallen  without 
resistance,  and  at  the  first  assault.  I  had  not  even 
made  the  least  effort  to  repel  the  tempter.  The 
fresh  coolness  of  Clarimonde's  skin  penetrated  my 
own,  and  I  felt  voluptuous  tremors  pass  over  my 
whole  body.     Poor  child  !  in  spite  of  all  I  saw  after- 


CLARIMONDE  35 

ward,  I  can  hardly  yet  believe  she  was  a  demon;  at 
least  she  had  no  appearance  of  being  such,  and  never 
did  Satan  so  skilfully  conceal  his  claws  and  horns. 
She  had  drawn  her  feet  up  beneath  her,  and  squatted 
down  on  the  edge  of  the  couch  in  an  attitude  full  of 
negligent  coquetry.  From  time  to  time  she  passed 
her  little  hand  through  my  hair  and  twisted  it  into 
curls,  as  though  trying  how  a  new  style  of  wearing 
it  would  become  my  face.  I  abandoned  myself  to 
her  hands  with  the  most  guilty  pleasure,  while  she 
accompanied  lier  gentle  play  with  the  prettiest  prattle. 
The  most  remarkable  fact  was  that  I  felt  no  astonish- 
ment whatever  at  so  extraordinary  an  adventure,  and 
as  in  dreams  one  finds  no  difficulty  in  acceptincr 
the  most  fantastic  events  as  simple  facts,  so  all  these 
circumstances  seemed  to  me  perfectly  natural  in  them- 
selves. 

'I  loved  thee  long  ere  I  saw  thee,  dear  Romuald, 
and  sought  thee  everywhere.  Thou  wast  my  dream, 
and  I  first  saw  thee  in  the  church  at  the  fatal  moment. 
I  said  at  once,  "  It  is  he ! "  I  gave  thee  a  look  into 
which  I  threw  all  the  love  I  ever  had,  all  the  love  I 

now  have,  all  the  love  I  shall  ever  have  for  thee 

a  look  that  would  have  damned  a  cardinal  or  brought 
a  king  to  his  knees  at  my  feet  in  view  of  all  his 
court.  Thou  remainedst  unmoved,  preferring  thy  God 
to  me ! 

'  Ah,  how  jealous  I  am  of  that  God  whom  thou  didst 
love  and  still  lovest  more  than  me  ! 


36  CLARIMONDE 

'  Woe  is  me,  unhappy  one  that  I  am  !  I  can  never 
have  thy  heart  all  to  myself,  I  whom  thou  didst  recall 
to  life  with  a  kiss — dead  Clarimonde,  who  for  thy  sake 
bursts  asunder  the  gates  of  the  tomb,  and  comes  to  con- 
secrate to  thee  a  life  which  she  has  resumed  only  to 
make  thee  happy  ! ' 

All  her  words  were  accompanied  with  the  most 
impassioned  caresses^  which  bewildered  my  sense  and 
my  reason  to  such  an  extent,  that  I  did  not  fear 
to  utter  a  frightful  blasphemy  for  the  sake  of  con- 
soling her,  and  to  declare  that  I  loved  her  as  much 
as  God. 

Her  eyes  rekindled  and  shone  like  chrysoprases. 
'  In  truth  ? — in  very  truth  ? — as  much  as  God ! '  she 
cried,  flinging  her  beautiful  arms  around  me.  'Since 
it  is  so,  thou  wilt  come  with  me;  thou  wilt  follow  me 
whithersoever  I  desire.  Thou  wilt  cast  away  thy  ugly 
black  habit.  Thou  shalt  be  the  proudest  and  most 
envied  of  cavaUers ;  thou  shalt  be  my  lover !  To  be 
the  acknowledged  lover  of  Clarimonde,  who  has  refused 
even  a  Pope  !  That  will  be  something  to  feel  proud  of. 
Ah,  the  fair,  unspeakably  happy  existence,  the  beautiful 
golden  life  we  shall  live  together !  And  when  shall  we 
depart,  my  fair  sir  ? ' 

'  To-morrow  !     To-morrow  ! '  I  cried  in  my  delirium. 

'To-morrow,  then,  so  let  it  be!'  she  answered.  'In 
the  meanwhile  I  shall  have  opportunity  to  change  my 
toilet,  for  this  is  a  little  too  light  and  in  nowise  suited 
for   a  voyage.      I   must  also   forthwith   notify  all  my 


CLARIMONDE  37 

friends  who  believe  me  dead,  and  mourn  for  me  as 
deeply  as  they  are  capable  of  doing.  The  money,  the 
dresses,  the  carriages — all  will  be  ready.  I  shall  call 
for  thee  at  this  same  hour.  Adieu,  dear  heart ! '  And 
she  lightly  touched  my  forehead  with  her  lips.  The 
lamp  went  out,  the  curtains  closed  again,  and  all 
became  dark;  a  leaden,  dreamless  sleep  fell  on 
me  and  held  me  unconscious  until  the  morning 
following. 

I  awoke  later  than  usual,  and  the  recollection  of 
this  singular  adventure  troubled  me  during  the  whole 
day.  I  finally  persuaded  myself  that  it  was  a  mere 
vapour  of  my  heated  imagination.  Nevertheless  its 
sensations  had  been  so  vivid  that  it  was  difficult  to 
persuade  myself  that  they  were  not  real,  and  it  was 
not  without  some  presentiment  of  what  was  going 
to  happen  that  I  got  into  bed  at  last,  after  having 
prayed  God  to  drive  far  from  me  all  thoughts  of  evil, 
and  to  protect  the  chastity  of  my  slumber. 

I  soon  fell  into  a  deep  sleep,  and  my  dream  was 
continued.  The  curtains  again  parted,  and  I  beheld 
Clarimonde,  not  as  on  the  former  occasion,  pale  in 
her  pale  winding-sheet,  with  the  violets  of  death  upon 
her  cheeks,  but  gay,  sprightly,  jaunty,  in  a  superb 
travelling-dress  of  green  velvet,  trimmed  with  gold 
lace,  and  looped  up  on  either  side  to  allow  a  glimpse 
of  satin  petticoat.  Her  blond  hair  escaped  in  thick 
ringlets  from  beneath  a  broad  black  felt  hat,  decorated 
with  white  feathers   whimsically  twisted   into   various 


38  CLARIMONDE 

shapes.  In  one  hand  she  held  a  Uttle  riding-whip 
terminated  by  a  golden  whistle.  She  tapped  me 
lightly  with  it,  and  exclaimed :  '  Well,  my  fine  sleeper, 
is  this  the  way  you  make  your  preparations  ?  I  thought 
I  would  find  you  up  and  dressed.  Arise  quickly,  we 
have  no  time  to  lose.' 

I  leaped  out  of  bed  at  once. 

'  Come,  dress  yourself,  and  let  us  go,'  she  continued, 
pointing  to  a  little  package  she  had  brought  with  her. 
'  The  horses  are  becoming  impatient  of  delay  and 
champing  their  bits  at  the  door.  We  ought  to  have 
been  by  this  time  at  least  ten  leagues  distant  from 
here.' 

I  dressed  myself  hurriedly,  and  she  handed  me  the 
articles  of  apparel  herself  one  by  one,  bursting  into 
laughter  from  time  to  time  at  my  awkwardness,  as 
she  explained  to  me  the  use  of  a  garment  when  I 
had  made  a  mistake.  She  hurriedly  arranged  my 
hair,  and  this  done,  held  up  before  me  a  little 
pocket-mirror  of  Venetian  crystal,  rimmed  with  silver 
filigree- work,  and  playfully  asked :  '  How  dost  find 
thyself  now?  Wilt  engage  me  for  thy  valet  de 
chambre  ? ' 

I  was  no  longer  the  same  person,  and  I  could  not 
even  recognise  myself.  I  resembled  my  former  self 
no  more  than  a  finished  statue  resembles  a  block  of 
stone.  My  old  face  seemed  but  a  coarse  daub  of  the 
one  reflected  in  the  mirror.  I  was  handsome,  and  my 
vanity   was   sensibly   tickled    by   the    metamorphosis. 


CLARIMONDE  39 

That  elegant  apparel,  that  richly  embroidered  vest 
had  made  of  me  a  totally  different  personage,  and 
I  marvelled  at  the  power  of  transforir.ation  owned 
by  a  few  yards  of  cloth  cut  after  a  certain  pattern. 
The  spirit  of  my  costume  penetrated  my  very  skin  and 
wnthin  ten  minutes  more  I  had  become  something  of  a 
coxcomb. 

In  order  to  feel  more  at  ease  in  my  new  attire,  I 
took  several  turns  up  and  down  the  room.  Clari- 
monde  watched  me  with  an  air  of  maternal  pleasure, 
and  appeared  well  satisfied  with  her  work.  'Come, 
enough  of  this  child's  play !  Let  us  start,  Romuald, 
dear.  We  have  far  to  go,  and  we  may  not  get  there  in 
time.'  She  took  my  hand  and  led  me  forth.  All  the 
doors  opened  before  her  at  a  touch,  and  we  passed  by 
the  dog  without  awaking  him. 

At  the  gate  we  found  Margheritone  wailing,  the 
same  swarthy  groom  who  had  once  before  been  my 
escort.  He  held  the  bridles  of  three  horses,  all  black 
like  those  which  bore  us  to  the  castle — one  for  me, 
one  for  him,  one  for  Clarimonde.  Those  horses  must 
have  been  Spanish  genets  born  of  mares  fecundated 
by  a  zephyr,  for  they  were  fleet  as  the  wind  itself, 
and  the  moon,  which  had  just  risen  at  our  departure 
to  light  us  on  the  way,  rolled  over  the  sky  like  a 
wheel  detached  from  her  own  chariot.  We  beheld 
her  on  the  right  leaping  from  tree  to  tree,  and  putting 
herself  out  of  breath  in  the  effort  to  keep  up  with 
us.     Soon  we  came  upon  a  level  plain  where,   hard 


40  CLARIMONDE 

by  a  clump  of  trees,  a  carriage  with  four  vigorous 
horses  awaited  us.  We  entered  it,  and  the  postillions 
urged  their  animals  into  a  mad  gallop.  I.  had  one 
arm  around  Clarimonde's  waist,  and  one  of  her  hands 
clasped  in  mine ;  her  head  leaned  upon  my  shoulder, 
and  I  felt  her  bosom,  half  bare,  lightly  pressing  against 
my  arm.  I  had  never  known  such  intense  happiness. 
In  that  hour  I  had  forgotten  everything,  and  I  no 
more  remembered  having  ever  been  a  priest  than  1 
remembered  what  I  had  been  doing  in  my  mother's 
womb,  so  great  was  the  fascination  which  the  evil 
spirit  exerted  upon  me.  From  that  night  my  nature 
seemed  in  some  sort  to  have  become  halved,  and 
there  were  two  men  within  me,  neither  of  whom  knew 
the  other.  At  one  moment  I  believed  myself  a  priest 
who  dreamed  nightly  that  he  was  a  gentleman,  at 
another  that  I  was  a  gentleman  who  dreamed  he 
was  a  priest.  I  could  no  longer  distinguish  the 
dream  from  the  reality,  nor  could  I  discover  where 
the  reality  began  or  where  ended  the  dream.  The 
exquisite  young  lord  and  libertine  railed  at  the  priest, 
the  priest  loathed  the  dissolute  habits  of  the  young 
lord.  Two  spirals  entangled  and  confounded  the 
one  with  the  other,  yet  never  touching,  would  afford 
a  fair  representation  of  this  bicephalic  life  which  I 
lived.  Despite  the  strange  character  of  my  condition, 
I  do  not  believe  that  I  ever  inclined,  even  for  a 
moment,  to  madness.  I  always  retained  with  extreme 
vividness  all  the  perceptions  of  my  two  lives.     Only 


CLARIMONDE  41 

there  was  one  absurd  fact  which  I  could  not  explain 
to  myself — namely,  that  the  consciousness  of  the  same 
individuality  existed  in  two  men  so  opposite  in  char- 
acter. It  was  an  anomaly  for  which  I  could  not  account 
— whether  I  believed  myself  to  be  the  cure  of  the  little 

village  of  C ,  or  //  Signor  Romualdo,  the  titled  lover 

of  Clarimonde. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  I  lived,  at  least  I  believed  that  I 
lived,  in  Venice.  I  have  never  been  able  to  discover 
rightly  how  much  of  illusion  and  how  much  of  reality 
there  was  in  this  fantastic  adventure.  We  dwelt  in  a 
great  palace  on  the  Canaleio,  filled  with  frescoes  and 
statues,  and  containing  two  Titians  in  the  noblest  style 
of  the  great  master,  which  were  hung  in  Clarimonde's 
chamber.  It  was  a  palace  well  worthy  of  a  king.  We 
had  each  our  gondola,  our  barcaroUi  in  family  livery, 
our  music  hall,  and  our  special  poet.  Clarimonde 
always  lived  upon  a  magnificent  scale ;  there  was 
something  of  Cleopatra  in  her  nature.  As  for  me,  I 
had  the  retinue  of  a  prince's  son,  and  I  was  regarded 
with  as  much  reverential  respect  as  though  I  had  been 
of  the  family  of  one  of  the  twelve  Apostles  or  the  four 
Evangelists  of  the  Most  Serene  Republic.  I  would  not 
have  turned  aside  to  allow  even  the  Doge  to  pass,  and 
I  do  not  believe  that  since  Satan  fell  from  heaven,  any 
creature  was  ever  prouder  or  more  insolent  than  I.  I 
went  to  the  Ridotto,  and  played  with  a  luck  which 
seemed  absolutely  infernal.  I  received  the  best  of  all 
society — the  sons  of  ruined  families,   women   of  the 


42  CLARIMONDE 

theatre,  shrewd  knaves,  parasites,  hectoring  swash- 
bucklers. But  notwithstanding  the  dissipation  of  such 
a  life,  I  always  remained  faithful  to  Clarimonde.  I 
loved  her  wildly.  She  would  have  excited  satiety 
itself,  and  chained  inconstancy.  To  have  Clarimonde 
was  to  have  twenty  mistresses;  ay,  to  possess  all 
women :  so  mobile,  so  varied  of  aspect,  so  fresh  in 
new  charms  was  she  all  in  herself — a  very  chameleon 
of  a  woman,  in  sooth.  She  made  you  commit  with 
her  the  infidelity  you  would  have  committed  with 
another,  by  donning  to  perfection  the  character,  the 
attraction,  the  style  of  beauty  of  the  woman  who 
appeared  to  please  you.  She  returned  my  love  a 
hundred-fold,  and  it  was  in  vain  that  the  young 
patricians  and  even  the  Ancients  of  the  Council  of 
Ten  made  her  the  most  magnificent  proposals.  A 
Foscari  even  went  so  far  as  to  ofifer  to  espouse  her. 
She  rejected  all  his  overtures.  Of  gold  she  had 
enough.  She  wished  no  longer  for  anything  but  love 
— a  love  youthful,  pure,  evoked  by  herself,  and  which 
should  be  a  first  and  last  passion.  I  would  have  been 
perfectly  happy  but  for  a  cursed  nightmare  which 
recurred  every  night,  and  in  which  I  believed  myself 
to  be  a  poor  village  cure,  practising  mortification  and 
penance  for  my  excesses  during  the  day.  Reassured 
by  my  constant  association  with  her,  I  never  thought 
further  of  the  strange  manner  in  which  I  had  be- 
come acquainted  with  Clarimonde.  But  the  words 
of  the  Abb6  Serapion  concerning  her  recurred  often 


CLARIMONDE  43 

to  my  memory,  and  never  ceased  to  cause  me 
uneasiness. 

For  some  time  the  health  of  Clarimonde  had  not 
been  so  good  as  usual;  her  complexion  grew  paler 
day  by  day.  The  physicians  who  were  summoned 
could  not  comprehend  the  nature  of  her  malady  and 
knew  not  how  to  treat  it.  They  all  prescribed  some 
insignificant  remedies,  and  never  called  a  second  time. 
Her  paleness,  nevertheless,  visibly  increased,  and  she 
became  colder  and  colder,  until  she  seemed  almost 
as  white  and  dead  as  upon  that  memorable  night 
in  the  unknown  castle.  I  grieved  with  anguish  un- 
speakable to  behold  her  thus  slowly  perishing;  and 
she,  touched  by  my  agony,  smiled  upon  me  sweetly 
and  sadly  with  the  fateful  smile  of  those  who  feel  that 
they  must  die. 

One  morning  I  was  seated  at  her  bedside,  and 
breakfasting  from  a  little  table  placed  close  at  hand, 
so  that  I  might  not  be  obliged  to  leave  her  for  a  single 
instant.  In  the  act  of  cutting  some  fruit  I  accidentally 
inflicted  rather  a  deep  gash  on  my  finger.  The  blood 
immediately  gushed  forth  in  a  little  purple  jet,  and  a 
few  drops  spurted  upon  Clarimonde.  Her  eyes  flashed, 
her  face  suddenly  assumed  an  expression  of  savage  and 
ferocious  joy  such  as  I  had  never  before  observed  in 
her.  She  leaped  out  of  her  bed  with  animal  agility — 
the  agility,  as  it  were,  of  an  ape  or  a  cat — and  sprang 
upon  my  wound,  which  she  commenced  to  suck  with 
an   air   of  unutterable  pleasure.      She  swallowed  the 

£ 


44  CLARIMONDE 

blood  in  little  mouthfuls,  slowly  and  carefully,  like  a 
connoisseur  tasting  a  wine  from  Xeres  or  Syracuse. 
Gradually  her  eyelids  half  closed,  and  the  pupils  of  her 
green  eyes  became  oblong  instead  of  round.  From 
time  to  time  she  paused  in  order  to  kiss  my  hand,  then 
she  would  recommence  to  press  her  lips  to  the  lips  of 
the  wound  in  order  to  coax  forth  a  few  more  ruddy 
drops.  When  she  found  that  the  blood  would  no 
longer  come,  she  arose  with  eyes  liquid  and  brilliant, 
rosier  than  a  May  dawn ;  her  face  full  and  fresh,  her 
hand  warm  and  moist — in  fine,  more  beautiful  than 
ever,  and  in  the  most  perfect  health. 

'  I  shall  not  die  !  I  shall  not  die  ! '  she  cried,  clinging 
to  my  neck,  half  mad  with  joy.  '  I  can  love  thee  yet 
for  a  long  time.  My  life  is  thine,  and  all  that  is  of  me 
comes  from  thee.  A  few  drops  of  thy  rich  and  noble 
blood,  more  precious  and  more  potent  than  all  the 
elixirs  of  the  earth,  have  given  me  back  life.' 

This  scene  long  haunted  my  memory,  and  inspired 
me  with  strange  doubts  in  regard  to  Clarimonde ;  and 
the  same  evening,  when  slumber  had  transported  me 
to  my  presbytery,  I  beheld  the  Abbe  Serapion,  graver 
and  more  anxious  of  aspect  than  ever.  He  gazed 
attentively  at  me,  and  sorrowfully  exclaimed:  'Not 
content  with  losing  your  soul,  you  now  desire  also  to 
lose  your  body.  Wretched  young  man,  into  how  terrible 
a  plight  have  you  fallen ! '  The  tone  in  which  he 
uttered  these  words  powerfully  affected  me,  but  in 
spite  of  its  vividness  even  that  impression  was  soon 


CLARIMONDE  45 

dissipated,  and  a  thousand  other  cares  erased  it  from 
my  mind.  At  last  one  evening,  while  looking  into  a 
mirror  whose  traitorous  position  she  had  not  taken  into 
account,  I  saw  Clarimonde  in  the  act  of  emptying  a 
powder  into  the  cup  of  spiced  wine  which  she  had  long 
been  in  the  habit  of  preparing  after  our  repasts.  I 
took  the  cup,  feigned  to  carry  it  to  my  lips,  and  then 
placed  it  on  the  nearest  article  of  furniture  as  though 
intending  to  finish  it  at  my  leisure.  Taking  advantage 
of  a  moment  when  the  fair  one's  back  was  turned,  I 
threw  the  contents  under  the  table,  after  which  I 
retired  to  my  chamber  and  went  to  bed,  fully  resolved 
not  to  sleep,  but  to  watch  and  discover  what  should 
come  of  all  this  mystery.  I  did  not  have  to  wait  long, 
Clarimonde  entered  in  her  nightdress,  and  having 
removed  her  apparel,  crept  into  bed  and  lay  down 
beside  me.  When  she  felt  assured  that  I  was  asleep, 
she  bared  my  arm,  and  drawing  a  gold  pin  from  her 
hair,  commenced  to  murmur  in  a  low  voice : 

'  One  drop,  only  one  drop !  One  ruby  at  the  end 
of  my  needle.  .  .  .  Since  thou  lovest  me  yet,  I  must 
not  die  !  .  .  .  Ah,  poor  love !  His  beautiful  blood,  so 
brightly  purple,  I  must  drink  it.  Sleep,  my  only 
treasure !  Sleep,  my  god,  my  child  !  I  will  do  thee 
no  harm  ;  I  will  only  take  of  thy  life  what  I  must  to 
keep  my  own  from  being  for  ever  extinguished.  But 
that  I  love  thee  so  much,  I  could  well  resolve  to  have 
other  lovers  whose  veins  I  could  drain ;  but  since  I 
have  known  thee  all  other  men  have  become  baleful 


46  CLARIMONDE 

to  me.  .  .  .  Ah,  the  beautiful  arm !  How  round  it  is  ! 
How  white  it  is  !  How  shall  I  ever  dare  to  prick  this 
pretty  blue  vein  ! '  And  while  thus  murmuring  to  her- 
self she  wept,  and  I  felt  her  tears  raining  on  my  arm 
as  she  clasped  it  with  her  hands.  At  last  she  took  the 
resolve,  sUghtly  punctured  me  with  her  pin,  and  com- 
menced to  suck  up  the  blood  which  oozed  from  the 
place.  Although  she  swallowed  only  a  few  drops,  the 
fear  of  weakening  me  soon  seized  her,  and  she  carefully 
tied  a  little  band  around  my  arm,  afterward  rubbing  the 
wound  with  an  unguent  which  immediately  cicatrised  it. 
Further  doubts  were  impossible.  The  Abbe  Serapion 
was  right.  Notwithstanding  this  positive  knowledge, 
however,  I  could  not  cease  to  love  Clarimonde,  and  I 
would  gladly  of  my  own  accord  have  given  her  all  the 
blood  she  required  to  sustain  her  factitious  life.  More- 
over, I  felt  but  little  fear  of  her.  The  woman  seemed 
to  plead  with  me  for  the  vampire,  and  what  I  had 
already  heard  and  seen  sufficed  to  reassure  me  com- 
pletely. In  those  days  I  had  plenteous  veins,  which 
would  not  have  been  so  easily  exhausted  as  at  present; 
and  I  would  not  have  thought  of  bargaining  for  my 
blood,  drop  by  drop.  I  would  rather  have  opened 
myself  the  veins  of  my  arm  and  said  to  her :  '  Drink, 
and  may  my  love  infiltrate  itself  throughout  thy  body 
together  with  my  blocd ! '  I  carefully  avoided  ever 
making  the  least  reference  to  the  narcotic  drink  she 
had  prepared  for  me,  or  to  the  incident  of  the  pin, 
and  we  lived  in  the  most  perfect  harmony 


CLARIMONDE  47 

Yet  my  priestly  scruples  commenced  to  torment  me 
more  than  ever,  and  I  was  at  a  loss  to  imagine  what 
new  penance  I  could  invent  in  order  to  mortify  and 
subdue  my  flesh.  Although  these  visions  were  in- 
voluntary, and  though  I  did  not  actually  participate 
in  anything  relating  to  them,  I  could  not  dare  to  touch 
the  body  of  Christ  with  hands  so  impure  and  a  mind 
defiled  by  such  debauches  whether  real  or  imaginary. 
In  the  effort  to  avoid  falling  under  the  influence  of 
these  wearisome  hallucinations,  I  strove  to  prevent 
myself  from  being  overcome  by  sleep.  I  held  my  eye- 
lids open  with  my  fingers,  and  stood  for  hours  together 
leaning  upright  against  the  wall,  fighting  sleep  with  all 
my  might ;  but  the  dust  of  drowsiness  invariably 
gathered  upon  my  eyes  at  last,  and  finding  all  resist- 
ance useless,  I  would  have  to  let  my  arms  fall  in  the 
extremity  of  despairing  weariness,  and  the  current  of 
slumber  would  again  bear  me  away  to  the  perfidious 
shores.  Serapion  addressed  me  with  the  most  vehement 
exhortations,  severely  reproaching  me  for  my  softness 
and  want  of  fervour.  Finally,  one  day  when  I  was  more 
wretched  than  usual,  he  said  to  me  :  '  There  is  but  one 
way  by  which  you  can  obtain  relief  from  this  continual 
torment,  and  though  it  is  an  extreme  measure  it 
must  be  made  use  of;  violent  diseases  require  violent 
remedies.  I  know  where  Clarimonde  is  buried.  It  is 
necessary  that  we  shall  disinter  her  remains,  and  that 
you  shall  behold  in  how  pitiable  a  state  the  object  of 
your  love  is.     Then  you  will  no  longer  be  tempted  to 


48  CLARIMONDE 

lose  your  soul  for  the  sake  of  an  unclean  corpse 
devoured  by  worms,  and  ready  to  crumble  into  dust. 
That  will  assuredly  restore  you  to  yourself.'  For  my 
part,  I  was  so  tired  of  this  double  life  that  I  at  once 
consented,  desiring  to  ascertain  beyond  a  doubt  whether 
a  priest  or  a  gentleman  had  been  the  victim  of  delusion. 
I  had  become  fully  resolved  either  to  kill  one  of  the 
two  men  within  me  for  the  benefit  of  the  other,  or  else 
to  kill  both,  for  so  terrible  an  existence  could  not  last 
long  and  be  endured.  The  Abbe  Serapion  provided 
himself  with  a  mattock,  a  lever,  and  a  lantern,  and  at 

midnight  we  wended  our  way  to  the  cemetery  of , 

the  location  and  place  of  which  were  perfectly  familiar 
to  him.  After  having  directed  the  rays  of  the  dark 
lantern  upon  the  inscriptions  of  several  tombs,  we  came 
at  last  upon  a  great  slab,  half  concealed  by  huge  weeds 
and  devoured  by  mosses  and  parasitic  plants,  where- 
upon we  deciphered  the  opening  lines  of  the  epitaph : 

Here  lies  Clarimonde 

Who  was  famed  in  her  life-time 

As  the  fairest  of  women,' 

'It  is  here  without  a  doubt,'  muttered  Serapion,  and 
placing  his  lantern  on  the  ground,  he  forced  the  point 
of  the  lever  under  the  edge  of  the  stone  and   com- 

^  Ici  git  Clarimonde 
Qui  fut  de  son  vivant 
La  plus  belle  du  monde. 

The  broken  beauty  of  the  lines  is  unavoidably  lost  in  the 
translation. 


CLARIMONDE  49 

menced  to  raise  it.  The  stone  yielded,  and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  work  with  the  mattock.  Darker  and  more 
silent  than  the  night  itself,  I  stood  by  and  watched 
him  do  it,  while  he,  bending  over  his  dismal  toil, 
streamed  with  sweat,  panted,  and  his  hard-coming 
breath  seemed  to  have  the  harsh  tone  of  a  death  rattle. 
It  was  a  weird  scene,  and  had  any  persons  from  without 
beheld  us,  they  would  assuredly  have  taken  us  rather 
for  profane  wretches  and  shroud-stealers  than  for 
priests  of  God.  There  was  something  grim  and  fierce 
in  Serapion's  zeal  which  lent  him  the  air  of  a  demon 
rather  than  of  an  apostle  or  an  angel,  and  his  great 
aquiline  face,  with  all  its  stern  features  brought  out  in 
strong  relief  by  the  lantern-light,  had  something  fear- 
some in  it  which  enhanced  the  unpleasant  fancy.  I 
felt  an  icy  sweat  come  out  upon  my  forehead  in  huge 
beads,  and  my  hair  stood  up  with  a  hideous  fear. 
Within  the  depths  of  my  own  heart  I  felt  that  the  act  of 
the  austere  Serapion  was  an  abominable  sacrilege ;  and 
I  could  have  prayed  that  a  triangle  of  fire  would  issue 
from  the  entrails  of  the  dark  clouds,  heavily  rolling 
above  us,  to  reduce  him  to  cinders.  The  owls  which 
had  been  nestling  in  the  cypress-trees,  startled  by  the 
gleam  of  the  lantern,  flew  against  it  from  time  to  time, 
striking  their  dusty  wings  against  its  panes,  and  utter- 
ing plaintive  cries  of  lamentation ;  wild  foxes  yelped 
in  the  far  darkness,  and  a  thousand  sinister  noises 
detached  themselves  from  the  silence.  At  last  Sera- 
pion's mattock  struck  the  coffin  itself,  making  its  planks 


50  CLARIMONDE 

re-echo  with  a  deep  sonorous  sound,  with  that  terrible 
sound  nothingness  utters  when  stricken.  He  wrenched 
apart  and  tore  up  the  Hd,  and  I  beheld  Clarimonde, 
pallid  as  a  figure  of  marble,  with  hands  joined ;  her 
white  winding-sheet  made  but  one  fold  from  her  head 
to  her  feet.  A  little  crimson  drop  sparkled  like  a  speck 
of  dew  at  one  corner  of  her  colourless  mouth.  Serapion, 
at  this  spectacle,  burst  into  fury :  '  Ah,  thou  art  here, 
demon  !  Impure  courtesan  !  Drinker  of  blood  and 
gold  ! '  And  he  flung  holy  water  upon  the  corpse  and 
the  coffin,  over  which  he  traced  the  sign  of  the  cross 
with  his  sprinkler.  Poor  Clarimonde  had  no  sooner 
been  touched  by  the  blessed  spray  than  her  beautiful 
body  crumbled  into  dust,  and  became  only  a  shapeless 
and  frightful  mass  of  cinders  and  half-calcined  bones. 

'Behold  your  mistress,  my  Lord  Romuald  ! '  cried 
the  inexorable  priest,  as  he  pointed  to  these  sad 
remains.  '  Will  you  be  easily  tempted  after  this  to 
promenade  on  the  Lido  or  at  Fusina  with  your  beauty  ?  ' 
I  covered  my  face  with  my  hands,  a  vast  ruin  had 
taken  place  within  me.  I  returned  to  my  presbytery, 
and  the  noble  Lord  Romuald,  the  lover  of  Clarimonde, 
separated  himself  from  the  poor  priest  with  whom  he  had 
kept  such  strange  company  so  long.  But  once  only, 
the  following  night,  I  saw  Clarimonde.  She  said  to 
me,  as  she  had  said  the  first  time  at  the  portals  of  the 
church  :  '  Unhappy  man  !  Unhappy  man  !  What  hast 
thou  done  ?  Wherefore  have  hearkened  to  that  imbecile 
priest  ?     Wert  thou  not  happy  ?     And  what  harm  had 


CLARIMONDE  51 

I  ever  done  thee  that  thou  shouldst  violate  my  poor 
tomb,  and  lay  bare  the  miseries  of  my  nothingness  ? 
All  communication  between  our  souls  and  our  bodies 
is  henceforth  for  ever  broken.  Adieu  !  Thou  wilt  yet 
regret  me  ! '  She  vanished  in  air  as  smoke,  and  I 
never  saw  her  more. 

Alas !  she  spoke  truly  indeed.  I  have  regretted  her 
more  than  once,  and  I  regret  her  still.  My  soul's  peace 
has  been  very  dearly  bought.  The  love  of  God  was 
not  too  much  to  replace  such  a  love  as  hers.  And 
this,  brother,  is  the  story  of  my  youth.  Never  gaze 
upon  a  woman,  and  walk  abroad  only  with  eyes  ever 
fixed  upon  the  ground ;  for  however  chaste  and  watchful 
one  may  be,  the  error  of  a  single  moment  is  enough  to 
make  one  lose  eternity. 


THE   MUMMY'S   FOOT 

I  HAD  entered,  in  an  idle  mood,  the  shop  of  one  of 
those  curiosity  venders  who  are  called  marchands  de 
bric-a-brac  in  that  Parisian  argot  which  is  so  perfectly 
unintelligible  elsewhere  in  France. 

You  have  doubtless  glanced  occasionally  through  the 
windows  of  some  of  these  shops,  which  have  become  so 
numerous  now  that  it  is  fashionable  to  buy  antiquated 
furniture,  and  that  every  petty  stockbroker  thinks  he 
must  have  his  chambre  au  moyen  age. 

There  is  one  thing  there  which  clings  alike  to  the 
shop  of  the  dealer  in  old  iron,  the  ware-room  of  the 
tapestry  maker,  the  laboratory  of  the  chemist,  and 
the  studio  of  the  painter  :  in  all  those  gloomy  dens 
where  a  furtive  daylight  filters  in  through  the  window- 
shutters  the  most  manifestly  ancient  thing  is  dust.  The 
cobwebs  are  more  authentic  than  the  gimp  laces,  and 
the  old  pear-tree  furniture  on  exhibition  is  actually 
younger  than  the  mahogany  which  arrived  but  yester- 
day from  America. 

The  warehouse  of  my  bric-a-brac  dealer  was  a 
veritable    Capharnaum.      All    ages    and    all    nations 

52 


THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT  53 

seemed  to  have  made  their  rendezvous  there.  An 
Etruscan  lamp  of  red  clay  stood  upon  a  Boule  cabinet, 
with  ebony  panels,  brightly  striped  by  lines  of  inlaid 
brass ;  a  duchess  of  the  court  of  Louis  xv.  nonchal- 
antly extended  her  fawn-like  feet  under  a  massive  table 
of  the  time  of  Louis  xiii.,  with  heavy  spiral  supports 
of  oak,  and  carven  designs  of  chimeras  and  foliage 
intermingled. 

Upon  the  denticulated  shelves  of  several  sideboards 
glittered  immense  Japanese  dishes  with  red  and  blue 
designs  relieved  by  gilded  hatching,  side  by  side  with 
enamelled  works  by  Bernard  Palissy,  representing 
serpents,  frogs,  and  lizards  in  relief. 

From  disembowelled  cabinets  escaped  cascades  of 
silver-lustrous  Chinese  silks  and  waves  of  tinsel,  which 
an  oblique  sunbeam  shot  through  with  luminous  beads, 
while  portraits  of  every  era,  in  frames  more  or  less 
tarnished,  smiled  through  their  yellow  varnish. 

The  striped  breastplate  of  a  damascened  suit  of 
Milanese  armour  glittered  in  one  corner ;  loves  and 
nymphs  of  porcelain,  Chinese  grotesques,  vases  of 
celadon  and  crackleware,  Saxon  and  old  Sevres  cups 
encumbered  the  shelves  and  nooks  of  the  apart- 
ment. 

The  dealer  followed  me  closely  through  the  tortuous 
way  contrived  between  the  piles  of  furniture,  warding 
off  with  his  hand  the  hazardous  sweep  of  my  coat-skirts, 
watching  my  elbows  with  the  uneasy  attention  of  an 
antiquarian  and  a  usurer. 


54  THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT 

It  was  a  singular  face,  that  of  the  merchant ;  an 
immense  skull,  polished  like  a  knee,  and  surrounded 
by  a  thin  aureole  of  white  hair,  which  brought  out 
the  clear  salmon  tint  of  his  complexion  all  the  more 
strikingly,  lent  him  a  false  aspect  of  patriarchal 
honhoinie^  counteracted,  however,  by  the  scintillation 
of  two  little  yellow  eyes  which  trembled  in  their 
.  orbits  like  two  louis-d'or  upon  quicksilver.  The  curve 
of  his  nose  presented  an  aquiline  silhouette,  which 
suggested  the  Oriental  or  Jewish  type.  His  hands — 
thin,  slender,  full  of  nerves  which  projected  like  strings 
upon  the  finger-board  of  a  violin,  and  armed  with  claws 
like  those  on  the  terminations  of  bats'  wings — shook 
with  senile  trembling ;  but  those  convulsively  agitated 
hands  became  firmer  than  steel  pincers  or  lobsters' 
claws  when  they  lifted  any  precious  article — an  onyx 
cup,  a  Venetian  glass,  or  a  dish  of  Bohemian  crystal. 
This  strange  old  man  had  an  aspect  so  thoroughly 
rabbinical  and  cabalistic  that  he  would  have  been 
burnt  on  the  mere  testimony  of  his  face  three 
centuries  ago. 

'Will  you  not  buy  something  from  me  to-day,  sir? 
Here  is  a  Malay  kreese  with  a  blade  undulating  like 
flame.  Look  at  those  grooves  contrived  for  the  blood 
to  run  along,  those  teeth  set  backward  so  as  to  tear 
out  the  entrails  in  withdrawing  the  weapon.  It  is 
a  fine  character  of  ferocious  arm,  and  will  look  well 
in  your  collection.  This  two-handed  sword  is  very 
beautiful.     It  is  the  work  of  Josepe  de  la  Hera ;  and 


THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT  55 

this  colichemarde,  with  its  fenestrated  guard — what  a 
superb  specimen  of  handicraft ! ' 

*  No ;  I  have  quite  enough  weapons  and  instruments 
of  carnage.  I  want  a  small  figure,  something  which 
will  suit  me  as  a  paper-weight,  for  I  cannot  endure 
those  trumpery  bronzes  which  the  stationers  sell,  and 
which  may  be  found  on  everybody's  desk.' 

The  old  gnome  foraged  among  his  ancient  wares, 
and  finally  arranged  before  me  some  antique  bronzes, 
so-called  at  least ;  fragments  of  malachite,  little  Hindoo 
or  Chinese  idols,  a  kind  of  poussah-toys  in  jade-stone, 
representing  the  incarnations  of  Brahma  or  Vishnoo, 
and  wonderfully  appropriate  to  the  very  undivine  office 
of  holding  papers  and  letters  in  place. 

I  was  hesitating  between  a  porcelain  dragon,  all 
constellated  with  warts,  its  mouth  formidable  with 
bristling  tusks  and  ranges  of  teeth,  and  an  abominable 
little  Mexican  fetich,  representing  the  god  VitziliputziU 
au  naturel,  when  I  caught  sight  of  a  charming  foot,  which 
I  at  first  took  for  a  fragment  of  some  antique  Venus. 

It  had  those  beautiful  ruddy  and  tawny  tints  that 
lend  to  Florentine  bronze  that  warm  living  look  so 
much  preferable  to  the  gray-green  aspect  of  common 
bronzes,  which  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  statues  in 
a  state  of  putrefaction.  Satiny  gleams  played  over  its 
rounded  forms,  doubtless  polished  by  the  amorous 
kisses  of  twenty  centuries,  for  it  seemed  a  Corinthian 
bronze,  a  work  of  the  best  era  of  art,  perhaps  moulded 
by  Lysippus  himself. 


56  THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT 

*  That  foot  will  be  my  choice,'  I  said  to  the  merchant, 
who  regarded  me  with  an  ironical  and  saturnine  air,  and 
held  out  the  object  desired  that  I  might  examine  it 
more  fully. 

I  was  surprised  at  its  lightness.  It  was  not  a  foot 
of  metal,  but  in  sooth  a  foot  of  flesh,  an  embalmed 
foot,  a  mummy's  foot.  On  examining  it  still  more 
closely  the  very  grain  of  the  skin,  and  the  almost 
imperceptible  lines  impressed  upon  it  by  the  texture 
of  the  bandages,  became  perceptible.  The  toes  were 
slender  and  delicate,  and  terminated  by  perfectly 
formed  nails,  pure  and  transparent  as  agates.  The 
great  toe,  slightly  separated  from  the  rest,  afforded  a 
happy  contrast,  in  the  antique  style,  to  the  position  of 
the  other  toes,  and  lent  it  an  aerial  lightness — the  grace 
of  a  bird's  foot.  The  sole,  scarcely  streaked  by  a  few 
almost  imperceptible  cross  lines,  afforded  evidence  that 
it  had  never  touched  the  bare  ground,  and  had  only 
come  in  contact  with  the  finest  matting  of  Nile  rushes 
and  the  softest  carpets  of  panther  skin. 

'Ha,  ha,  you  want  the  foot  of  the  Princess 
Hermonthis ! '  exclaimed  the  merchant,  with  a  strange 
giggle,  fixing  his  owlish  eyes  upon  me.  '  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
For  a  paper-weight !  An  original  idea  ! — artistic  idea  ! 
Old  Pharaoh  would  certainly  have  been  surprised  had 
some  one  told  him  that  the  foot  of  his  adored  daughter 
would  be  used  for  a  paper-weight  after  he  had  had  a 
mountain  of  granite  hollowed  out  as  a  receptacle  for 
the   triple    coffin,    painted   and    gilded,    covered   with 


THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT  57 

hieroglyphics  and  beautiful  paintings  of  the  Judgment 
of  Souls,'  continued  the  queer  little  merchant,  half 
audibly,  as  though  talking  to  himself. 

'How  much  will  you  charge  me  for  this  mummy 
fragment  ? ' 

'Ah,  the  highest  price  I  can  get,  for  it  is  a  superb 
piece.  If  I  had  the  match  of  it  you  could  not  have 
it  for  less  than  five  hundred  francs.  The  daughter  of 
a  Pharaoh  !     Nothing  is  more  rare.' 

'Assuredly  that  is  not  a  common  article,  but  still, 
how  much  do  you  want?  In  the  first  place  let  me 
warn  you  that  all  my  wealth  consists  of  just  five  louis. 
I  can  buy  anything  that  costs  five  louis,  but  nothing 
dearer.  You  might  search  my  vest  pockets  and  most 
secret  drawers  without  even  finding  one  poor  five-franc 
piece  more.' 

'Five  louis  for  the  foot  of  the  Princess  Hermonthis ! 
That  is  very  little,  very  little  indeed.  'Tis  an  authentic 
foot,'  muttered  the  merchant,  shaking  his  head,  and 
imparting  a  peculiar  rotary  motion  to  his  eyes.  '  Well, 
take  it,  and  I  will  give  you  the  bandages  into  the 
bargain,'  he  added,  wrapping  the  foot  in  an  ancient 
damask  rag.  'Very  fine?  Real  damask  —  Indian 
damask  which  has  never  been  redyed.  It  is  strong, 
and  yet  it  is  soft,'  he  mumbled,  stroking  the  frayed 
tissue  with  his  fingers,  through  the  trade-acquired 
habit  which  moved  him  to  praise  even  an  object  of 
such  little  value  that  he  himself  deemed  it  only  worth 
the  giving  away. 


58  THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT 

He  poured  the  gold  coins  into  a  sort  of  mediaeval 
alms-purse  hanging  at  his  belt,  repeating  : 

'  The  foot  of  the  Princess  Hermonthis  to  be  used  for 
a  paper-weight ! ' 

Then  turning  his  phosphorescent  eyes  upon  me,  he 
exclaimed  in  a  voice  strident  as  the  crying  of  a  cat 
which  has  swallowed  a  fish-bone  : 

*  Old  Pharaoh  will  not  be  well  pleased.  He  loved 
his  daughter,  the  dear  man  ! ' 

'  You  speak  as  if  you  were  a  contemporary  of  his. 
You  are  old  enough,  goodness  knows !  but  you  do  not 
date  back  to  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt,'  I  answered,  laugh- 
ingly, from  the  threshold. 

I  went  home,  delighted  with  my  acquisition. 

With  the  idea  of  putting  it  to  profitable  use  as  soon 
as  possible,  I  placed  the  foot  of  the  divine  Princess 
Hermonthis  upon  a  heap  of  papers  scribbled  over  with 
verses,  in  themselves  an  undecipherable  mosaic  work 
of  erasures ;  articles  freshly  begun ;  letters  forgotten, 
and  posted  in  the  table  drawer  instead  of  the  letter-box, 
an  error  to  which  absent-minded  people  are  peculiarly 
liable.    The  effect  was  charming,  bizarre,  and  romantic. 

Well  satisfied  with  this  embellishment,  I  went  out 
with  the  gravity  and  pride  becoming  one  v/ho  feels  that 
he  has  the  ineffable  advantage  over  all  the  passers-by 
whom  he  elbows,  of  possessing  a  piece  of  the  Princess 
Hermonthis,  daughter  of  Pharaoh. 

I  looked  upon  all  who  did  not  possess,  like  myself, 
a    paper-weight    so    authentically    Egyptian    as    very 


THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT  59 

ridiculous  people,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  proper 
occupation  of  every  sensible  man  should  consist  in  the 
mere  fact  of  having  a  mummy's  foot  upon  his  desk. 

Happily  I  met  some  friends,  whose  presence  dis- 
tracted me  in  my  infatuation  with  this  new  acquisition. 
I  went  to  dinner  with  them,  for  I  could  not  very  well 
have  dined  with  myself. 

When  I  came  back  that  evening,  with  my  brain 
slightly  confused  by  a  few  glasses  of  wine,  a  vague  whiff 
of  Oriental  perfume  delicately  titillated  my  olfactory 
nerves.  The  heat  of  the  room  had  warmed  the  natron, 
bitumen,  and  myrrh  in  which  the  parasc/iisfes,  who  cut 
open  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  had  bathed  the  corpse  of 
the  princess.  It  was  a  perfume  at  once  sweet  and 
penetrating,  a  perfume  that  four  thousand  years  had 
not  been  able  to  dissipate. 

The  Dream  of  Egypt  was  Eternity.  Her  odours  have 
the  solidity  of  granite  and  endure  as  long. 

I  soon  drank  deeply  from  the  black  cup  of  sleep. 
For  a  few  hours  all  remained  opaque  to  me.  Oblivion 
and  nothingness  inundated  me  with  their  sombre  waves. 

Yet  light  gradually  dawned  upon  the  darkness  of  my 
mind.  Dreams  commenced  to  touch  me  softly  in  their 
silent  flight. 

The  eyes  of  my  soul  were  opened,  and  I  beheld  my 
chamber  as  it  actually  was.  I  might  have  believed 
myself  awake  but  for  a  vague  consciousness  which 
assured  me  that  I  slept,  and  that  something  fantastic 
was  about  to  take  place. 

F 


6o  THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT 

The  odour  of  the  myrrh  had  augmented  in  intensity, 
and  I  felt  a  slight  headache,  which  I  very  naturally 
attributed  to  several  glasses  of  champagne  that  we  had 
drunk  to  the  unknown  gods  and  our  future  fortunes. 

I  peered  through  my  room  with  a  feeling  of  expecta- 
tion which  I  saw  nothing  to  justify.  Every  article  of 
furniture  was  in  its  proper  place.  The  lamp,  softly 
shaded  by  its  globe  of  ground  crystal,  burned  upon  its 
bracket ;  the  water-colour  sketches  shone  under  their 
Bohemian  glass ;  the  curtains  hung  down  languidly ; 
everything  wore  an  aspect  of  tranquil  slumber. 

After  a  few  moments,  however,  all  this  calm  interior 
appeared  to  become  disturbed.  The  woodwork  cracked 
stealthily,  the  ash-covered  log  suddenly  emitted  a  jet 
of  blue  flame,  and  the  discs  of  the  pateras  seemed  like 
great  metallic  eyes,  watching,  like  myself,  for  the  things 
which  were  about  to  happen. 

My  eyes  accidentally  fell  upon  the  desk  where  I  had 
placed  the  foot  of  the  Princess  Hermonthis. 

Instead  of  remaining  quiet,  as  behoved  a  foot 
which  had  been  embalmed  for  four  thousand  years,  it 
commenced  to  act  in  a  nervous  manner,  contracted 
itself,  and  leaped  over  the  papers  like  a  startled 
frog.  One  would  have  imagined  that  it  had  suddenly 
been  brought  into  contact  with  a  galvanic  battery.  I 
could  distinctly  hear  the  dry  sound  made  by  its  little 
heel,  hard  as  the  hoof  of  a  gazelle. 

I  became  rather  discontented  with  my  acquisition, 
inasmuch  as   I  wished  my  paper-weights  to  be  of  a 


THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT  6i 

sedentary  disposition,  and  thought  it  very  unnatural 
that  feet  should  walk  about  without  legs,  and  I  com- 
menced to  experience  a  feeling  closely  akin  to  fear. 

Suddenly  I  saw  the  folds  of  my  bed-curtain  stir,  and 
heard  a  bumping  sound,  like  that  caused  by  some 
person  hopping  on  one  foot  across  the  floor.  I  must 
confess  I  became  alternately  hot  and  cold,  that  I  felt 
a  strange  wind  chill  my  back,  and  that  my  suddenly 
rising  hair  caused  my  night-cap  to  execute  a  leap  of 
several  yards. 

The  bed-curtains  opened  and  I  beheld  the  strangest 
figure  imaginable  before  me. 

It  was  a  young  girl  of  a  very  deep  coffee-brown 
complexion,  like  the  bayadere  Amani,  and  possessing 
the  purest  Egyptian  type  of  perfect  beauty.  Her  eyes 
were  almond  shaped  and  oblique,  with  eyebrows  so 
black  that  they  seemed  blue ;  her  nose  was  exquisitely 
chiselled,  almost  Greek  in  its  delicacy  of  outline ;  and 
she  might  indeed  have  been  taken  for  a  Corinthian  statue 
of  bronze  but  for  the  prominence  of  her  cheek-bones  and 
the  slightly  African  fulness  of  her  lips,  which  compelled 
one  to  recognise  her  as  belonging  beyond  all  doubt  to 
the  hieroglyphic  race  which  dwelt  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Nile. 

Her  arms,  slender  and  spindle-shaped  like  those  of 
very  young  girls,  were  encircled  by  a  pecuHar  kind  of 
metal  bands  and  bracelets  of  glass  beads ;  her  hair  was 
all  twisted  into  Httle  cords,  and  she  wore  upon  her 
bosom  a  Ultle  idol-figure  of  green  paste,  bearing  a  whip 


62  THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT 

with  seven  lashes,  which  proved  it  to  be  an  image  of 
Isis;  her  brow  was  adorned  with  a  shining  plate  of 
gold,  and  a  few  traces  of  paint  relieved  the  coppery 
tint  of  her  cheeks. 

As  for  her  costume,  it  was  very  odd  indeed. 

Fancy  z.pagne,  or  skirt,  all  formed  of  little  strips  of 
material  bedizened  with  red  and  black  hieroglyphics, 
stiffened  with  bitumen,  and  apparently  belonging  to  a 
freshly  unbandaged  mummy. 

In  one  of  those  sudden  flights  of  thought  so  common 
in  dreams  I  heard  the  hoarse  falsetto  of  the  bric-a-brac 
dealer,  repeating  like  a  monotonous  refrain  the  phrase 
he  had  uttered  in  his  shop  with  so  enigmatical  an 
intonation  : 

'  Old  Pharaoh  will  not  be  well  pleased.  He  loved 
his  daughter,  the  dear  man  ! ' 

One  strange  circumstance,  which  was  not  at  all  calcu- 
lated to  restore  my  equanimity,  was  that  the  apparition 
had  but  one  foot ;  the  other  was  broken  off  at  the  ankle  ! 

She  approached  the  table  where  the  foot  was 
starting  and  fidgeting  about  more  than  ever,  and 
there  supported  herself  upon  the  edge  of  the  desk.  I 
saw  her  eyes  fill  with  pearly  gleaming  tears. 

Although  she  had  not  as  yet  spoken,  I  fully 
comprehended  the  thoughts  which  agitated  her.  She 
looked  at  her  foot — for  it  was  indeed  her  own — with 
an  exquisitely  graceful  expression  of  coquettish  sadness, 
but  the  foot  leaped  and  ran  hither  and  thither,  as 
though  impelled  on  steel  springs. 


THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT  63 

Twice  or  thrice  she  extended  her  hand  to  seize  it, 
but  could  not  succeed. 

Then  commenced  between  the  Princess  Hermonthis 
and  her  foot — which  appeared  to  be  endowed  with  a 
special  life  of  its  own — a  very  fantastic  dialogue  in  a 
most  ancient  Coptic  tongue,  such  as  might  have  been 
spoken  thirty  centuries  ago  in  the  syrinxes  of  the 
land  of  Ser.  Luckily  I  understood  Coptic  perfectly 
well  that  night. 

The  Princess  Hermonthis  cried,  in  a  voice  sweet 
and  vibrant  as  the  tones  of  a  crystal  bell : 

'  Well,  my  dear  little  foot,  you  always  flee  from  me, 
yet  I  always  took  good  care  of  you.  I  bathed  you  with 
perfumed  water  in  a  bowl  of  alabaster  ;  I  smoothed 
your  heel  with  pumice-stone  mixed  with  palm-oil ; 
your  nails  were  cut  with  golden  scissors  and  polished 
with  a  hippopotamus  tooth ;  I  was  careful  to  select 
tatbebs  for  you,  painted  and  embroidered  and  turned 
up  at  the  toes,  which  were  the  envy  of  all  the  young 
girls  in  Egypt.  You  wore  on  your  great  toe  rings 
bearing  the  device  of  the  sacred  Scarabaeus,  and  you 
supported  one  of  the  lightest  bodies  that  a  lazy  foot 
could  sustain.' 

The  foot  replied  in  a  pouting  and  chagrined  tone  : 
'  You  know  well  that  I  do  not  belong  to  myself  any 
longer.  I  have  been  bought  and  paid  for.  The  old 
merchant  knew  what  he  was  about.  He  bore  you  a 
grudge  for  having  refused  to  espouse  him.  This  is 
an  ill  turn  which  he  has  done  you.     The  Arab  who 


64  THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT 

violated  your  royal  coffin  in  the  subterranean  pits  of  the 
necropolis  of  Thebes  was  sent  thither  by  him.  He 
desired  to  prevent  you  from  being  present  at  the  re- 
union of  the  shadowy  nations  in  the  cities  below.  Have 
you  five  pieces  of  gold  for  my  ransom  ? ' 

'  Alas,  no  !  My  jewels,  my  rings,  my  purses  of  gold 
and  silver  were  all  stolen  from  me,'  answered  the 
Princess  Hermonthis  with  a  sob. 

'  Princess,'  I  then  exclaimed,  '  I  never  retained 
anybody's  foot  unjustly.  Even  though  you  have  not 
got  the  five  louis  which  it  cost  me,  I  present  it  to  you 
gladly.  I  should  feel  unutterably  wretched  to  think 
that  I  were  the  cause  of  so  amiable  a  person  as  the 
Princess  Hermonthis  being  lame.' 

I  delivered  this  discourse  in  a  royally  gallant, 
troubadour  tone  which  must  have  astonished  the 
beautiful  Egyptian  girl. 

She  turned  a  look  of  deepest  gratitude  upon  me,  and 
her  eyes  shone  with  bluish  gleams  of  light. 

She  took  her  foot,  which  surrendered  itself  willingly 
this  time,  like  a  woman  about  to  put  on  her  little  shoe, 
and  adjusted  it  to  her  leg  with  much  skill. 

This  operation  over,  she  took  a  few  steps  about  the 
room,  as  though  to  assure  herself  that  she  was  really  no 
longer  lame. 

'  Ah,  how  pleased  my  father  will  be  !  He  who  was 
so  unhappy  because  of  my  mutilation,  and  who  from 
the  moment  of  my  birth  set  a  whole  nation  at  work  to 
hollow  me  out  a  tomb  so  deep  that  he  might  preserve 


THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT  65 

me  intact  until  that  last  day  when  souls  must  be 
weighed  in  the  balance  of  Amenthi !  Come  with  me 
to  my  father.  He  will  receive  you  kindly,  for  you 
have  given  me  back  my  foot.' 

I  thought  this  proposition  natural  enough.  I  arrayed 
myself  in  a  dressing-gown  of  large-flowered  pattern, 
which  lent  me  a  very  Pharaonic  aspect,  hurriedly 
put  on  a  pair  of  Turkish  slippers,  and  informed  the 
Princess  Hermonthis  that  I  was  ready  to  follow  her. 

Before  starting,  Hermonthis  took  from  her  neck  the 
little  idol  of  green  paste,  and  laid  it  on  the  scattered 
sheets  of  paper  which  covered  the  table. 

'  It  is  only  fair,' she  observed,  smilingly,  'that  I  should 
replace  your  paper-weight.' 

She  gave  me  her  hand,  which  felt  soft  and  cold,  like 
the  skin  of  a  serpent,  and  we  departed. 

We  passed  for  some  time  with  the  velocity  of  an 
arrow  through  a  fluid  and  grayish  expanse,  in  which 
half-formed  silhouettes  flitted  swiftly  by  us,  to  right 
and  left. 

For  an  instant  we  saw  only  sky  and  sea. 

A  few  moments  later  obelisks  commenced  to  tower 
in  the  distance;  pylons  and  vast  flights  of  steps 
guarded  by  sphinxes  became  clearly  outlined  against 
the  horizon. 

We  had  reached  our  destination. 

The  princess  conducted  me  to  a  mountain  of  rose- 
coloured  granite,  in  the  face  of  which  appeared  an 
opening  so  narrow  and   low  that  it  would  have  been 


66  THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT 

difficult  to  distinguish  it  from  the  fissures  in  the  rock, 
had  not  its  location  been  marked  by  two  stelae  wrought 
with  sculptures. 

Hermonthis  kindled  a  torch  and  led  the  way  before 
me. 

We  traversed  corridors  hewn  through  tlie  living 
rock.  Their  walls,  covered  with  hieroglyphics  and 
paintings  of  allegorical  processions,  might  well  have 
occupied  thousands  of  arms  for  thousands  of  years  in 
their  formation.  These  corridors  of  interminable 
length  opened  into  square  chambers,  in  the  midst  of 
which  pits  had  been  contrived,  through  which  we 
descended  by  cramp-irons  or  spiral  stairways.  These 
pits  again  conducted  us  into  other  chambers,  opening 
into  other  corridors,  likewise  decorated  with  painted 
sparrow-hawks,  serpents  coiled  in  circles,  the  symbols 
of  the  tau  and  pedufti — prodigious  works  of  art  which 
no  living  eye  can  ever  examine — interminable  legends 
of  granite  which  only  the  dead  have  time  to  read 
through  all  eternity. 

At  last  we  found  ourselves  in  a  hall  so  vast,  so 
enormous,  so  immeasurable,  that  the  eye  could  not 
reach  its  limits.  Files  of  monstrous  columns  stretched 
far  out  of  sight  on  every  side,  between  which  twinkled 
livid  stars  of  yellowish  flame ;  points  of  light  which 
revealed  further  depths  incalculable  in  the  darkness 
beyond. 

The  Princess  Hermonthis  still  held  my  hand,  and 
graciously  saluted  the  mummies  of  her  acquaintance. 


THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT  67 

My  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  dim  twilight,  and 
objects  became  discernible. 

I  beheld  the  kings  of  the  subterranean  races  seated 
upon  thrones — grand  old  men,  though  dry,  withered, 
wrinkled  like  parchment,  and  blackened  with  naphtha 
and  bitumen — all  wearing  pshents  of  gold,  and  breast- 
plates and  gorgets  glittering  with  precious  stones,  their 
eyes  immovably  fixed  like  the  eyes  of  sphinxes,  and 
their  long  beards  whitened  by  the  snow  of  centuries. 
Behind  them  stood  their  peoples,  in  the  stiff  and  con- 
strained posture  enjoined  by  Egyptian  art,  all  eternally 
preserving  the  attitude  prescribed  by  the  hieratic  code. 
Behind  these  nations,  the  cats,  ibixes,  and  crocodiles 
contemporary  with  them — rendered  monstrous  of  aspect 
by  their  swathing  bands — mewed,  flapped  their  wings, 
or  extended  their  jaws  in  a  saurian  giggle. 

ASl  the  Pharaohs  were  there — Cheops,  Chephrenes, 
Psammetichus,  Sesostris,  Amenotaph — all  the  dark 
rulers  of  the  pyramids  and  syrinxes.  On  yet  higher 
thrones  sat  Chronos  and  Xixouthros,  who  was  con- 
temporary with'  the  deluge,  and  Tubal  Cain,  who 
reigned  before  it. 

The  beard  of  King  Xixouthros  had  grown  seven 
times  around  the  granite  table  upon  which  he  leaned, 
lost  in  deep  reverie,  and  buried  in  dreams. 

Further  back,  through  a  dusty  cloud,  I  beheld 
dimly  the  seventy-two  pre-adamite  kings,  with  their 
seventy-two  peoples,  for  ever  passed  away. 

After  permitting  me  to  gaze  upon  this  bewildering 


68  THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT 

spectacle  a  few  moments,  the  Princess  Hermonthis 
presented  me  to  her  father  Pharaoh,  who  favoured  me 
with  a  most  gracious  nod. 

'  I  have  found  my  foot  again  !  I  have  found  my 
foot ! '  cried  the  princess,  clapping  her  little  hands 
together  with  every  sign  of  frantic  joy.  '  It  was  this 
gentleman  who  restored  it  to  me.' 

The  races  of  Kemi,  the  races  of  Nahasi — all  the  black, 
bronzed, and  copper-coloured  nations  repeated  in  chorus : 

'  The  Princess  Hermonthis  has  found  her  foot  again  ! ' 

Even  Xixouthros  himself  was  visibly  affected. 

He  raised  his  heavy  eyelids,  stroked  his  moustache 
with  his  fingers,  and  turned  upon  me  a  glance  weighty 
with  centuries. 

'  By  0ms,  the  dog  of  Hell,  and  Tmei,  daughter  of  the 
Sun  and  of  Truth,  this  is  a  brave  and  worthy  lad  ! ' 
exclaimed  Pharaoh,  pointing  to  me  with  his  sceptre, 
which  was  terminated  with  a  lotus-flower. 

'  What  recompense  do  you  desire  ? ' 

Filled  with  that  daring  inspired  by  dreams  in  v/hich 
nothing  seems  impossible,  I  asked  him  for  the  hand  of 
the  Princess  Plermonthis.  The  hand  seemed  to  me  a 
very  proper  antithetic  recompense  for  the  foot. 

Pharaoh  opened  wide  his  great  eyes  of  glass  in 
astonishment  at  my  witty  request. 

'  What  country  do  you  come  from,  and  what  is  your 
age?' 

'  I  am  a  Frenchman,  and  I  am  twenty-seven  years 
old  venerable  Pharaoh.' 


THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT  69 

*  Twenty-seven  years  old,  and  he  wishes  to  espouse 
the  Princess  Hermonthis  who  is  thirty  centuries  old  ! ' 
cried  out  at  once  all  the  Thrones  and  all  the  Circles 
of  Nations. 

Only  Hermonthis  herself  did  not  seem  to  think  my 
request  unreasonable. 

'  If  you  were  even  only  two  thousand  years  old,' 
replied  the  ancient  king,  '  I  would  willingly  give  you 
the  princess,  but  the  disproportion  is  too  great ;  and, 
besides,  we  must  give  our  daughters  husbands  who  will 
last  well.  You  do  not  know  how  to  preserve  your- 
selves any  longer.  Even  those  who  died  only  fifteen 
centuries  ago  are  already  no  more  than  a  handful  of 
dust.  Behold,  my  flesh  is  solid  as  basalt,  my  bones 
are  bars  of  steel ! 

'  I  will  be  present  on  the  last  day  of  the  world  with 
the  same  body  and  the  same  features  which  I  had 
during  my  lifetime.  My  daughter  Hermonthis  will 
last  longer  than  a  statue  of  bronze. 

'  Then  the  last  particles  of  your  dust  will  have  been 
scattered  abroad  by  the  winds,  and  even  Isis  herself, 
who  was  able  to  find  the  atoms  of  Osiris,  would  scarce 
be  able  to  recompose  your  being. 

'  See  how  vigorous  I  yet  remain,  and  how  mighty  is 
my  grasp,'  he  added,  shaking  my  hand  in  the  English 
fashion  with  a  strength  that  buried  my  rings  in  the 
flesh  of  my  fingers. 

He  squeezed  me  so  hard  that  I  awoke,  and  found  my 
friend  Alfred  shaking  me  by  the  arm  to  make  me  get  up. 


70  THE  MUMMY'S  FOOT 

'  Oh,  you  everlasting  sleeper !  Must  I  have  you 
carried  out  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  and  fire- 
works exploded  in  your  ears  ?  It  is  afternoon.  Don't 
you  recollect  your  promise  to  take  me  with  you  to  see 
M,  Aguado's  Spanish  pictures  ?  ' 

'  God !  I  forgot  all,  all  about  it,'  I  answered,  dress- 
ing myself  hurriedly.  '  We  will  go  there  at  once.  I 
have  the  permit  lying  there  on  my  desk.' 

I  started  to  find  it,  but  fancy  my  astonishment  when 
I  beheld,  instead  of  the  mummy's  foot  I  had  pur- 
chased the  evening  before,  the  little  green  paste  idol 
left  in  its  place  by  the  Princess  Hermonthis ! 


KING  CANDAULES 

CHAPTER  I 

Five  hundred  years  before  the  Trojan  war,  and  seven- 
teen hundred  and  fifteen  years  before  our  own  era, 
there  was  a  grand  festival  at  Sardes.  King  Candaules 
was  going  to  marry.  The  people  were  affected  with 
that  sort  of  pleasurable  interest  and  aimless  emotion 
wherewith  any  royal  event  inspires  the  masses,  even 
though  it  in  no  wise  concerns  them,  and  transpires  in 
superior  spheres  of  life  which  they  can  never  hope  to 
reach. 

As  soon  as  Phcebus-Apollo,  standing  in  his  quadriga, 
had  gilded  to  saffron  the  summits  of  fertile  Mount 
Tmolus  with  his  rays,  the  good  people  of  Sardes  were 
all  astir,  going  and  coming,  mounting  or  descending 
the  marble  stairways  leading  from  the  city  to  the  waters 
of  the  Pactolus,  that  opulent  river  whose  sands  Midas 
filled  with  tiny  sparks  of  gold  when  he  bathed  in  its 
stream.  One  would  have  supposed  that  each  one  of 
these  good  citizens  was  himself  about  to  marry,  so 
solemn  and  important  was  the  demeanour  of  all. 

Men  were  gathering  in  groups  in  the  Agora,  upon 

71 


72  KING  CANDAULES 

the  steps  of  the  temples  and  along  the  porticoes.  At 
every  street  corner  one  might  have  encountered  women 
leading  by  the  hand  little  children,  whose  uneven  walk 
ill  suited  the  maternal  anxiety  and  impatience.  Maidens 
were  hastening  to  the  fountains,  all  with  urns  gracefully 
balanced  upon  their  heads,  or  sustained  by  their  white 
arms  as  with  natural  handles,  so  as  to  procure  early 
the  necessary  water  provision  for  the  household,  and 
thus  obtain  leisure  at  the  hour  when  the  nuptial  pro- 
cession should  pass.  Washerwomen  hastily  folded  the 
still  damp  tunics  and  chlamidge,  and  piled  them  upon 
mule-wagons.  Slaves  turned  the  mill  without  any 
need  of  the  overseer's  whip  to  tickle  their  naked  and 
scar-seamed  shoulders.  Sardes  was  hurrying  itself  to 
finish  with  those  necessary  everyday  cares  M'hich  no 
festival  can  wholly  disregard. 

The  road  along  which  the  procession  was  to  pass 
had  been  strewn  with  fine  yellow  sand.  ■  Brazen  tripods, 
disposed  along  the  way  at  regular  intervals,  sent  up  to 
heaven  the  odorous  smoke  of  cinnamon  and  spikenard. 
These  vapours,  moreover,  alone  clouded  the  purity  of 
the  azure  above.  The  clouds  of  a  hymeneal  day 
ought,  indeed,  to  be  formed  only  by  the  burning  of 
perfumes.  Myrtle  and  rose-laurel  branches  were 
strewn  upon  the  ground,  and  from  the  walls  of  the 
palaces  were  suspended  by  little  rings  of  bronze  rich 
tapestries,  whereon  the  needles  of  industrious  captives 
— intermingling  wool,  silver,  and  gold — had  repre- 
sented various  scenes  in  the  history  of  the  gods  and 


KING  CANDAULES  73 

heroes:  Ixion  embracing  the  cloud;  Diana  surprised 
in  the  bath  by  Actaeon ;  the  shepherd  Paris  as  judge  in 
the  contest  of  beauty  held  upon  Mount  Ida  between 
Hera,  the  snowy-armed,  Athena  of  the  sea-green  eyes, 
and  Aphrodite,  girded  with  her  magic  cestus ;  the  old 
men  of  Troy  rising  to  honour  Helena  as  she  passed 
through  the  Skaian  gate,  a  subject  taken  from  one 
of  the  poems  of  the  blind  man  of  Males.  Others 
exhibited  in  preference  scenes  taken  from  the  life  of 
Heracles,  the  Theban,  through  flattery  to  Candaules, 
himself  a  Heracleid,  being  descended  from  the  hero 
through  AlcKus.  Others  contented  themselves  by 
decorating  the  entrances  of  their  dwellings  with 
garlands  and  wreaths  in  token  of  rejoicing. 

Among  the  multitudes  marshalled  along  the  way 
from  the  royal  house  even  as  far  as  the  gates  of  the 
city,  through  which  the  young  queen  would  pass  on 
her  arrival,  conversation  naturally  turned  upon  the 
beauty  of  the  bride,  whereof  the  renown  had  spread 
throughout  all  Asia;  and  upon  the  character  of  the 
bridegroom,  who,  although  not  altogether  an  eccentric, 
seemed  nevertheless  one  not  readily  appreciated  from 
the  common  standpoint  of  observation, 

Nyssia,  daughter  of  the  Satrap  Megabazus,  was 
gifted  with  marvellous  purity  of  feature  and  perfection 
of  form  ;  at  least  such  was  the  rumour  spread  abroad 
by  the  female  slaves  who  attended  her,  and  a  few 
female  friends  who  had  accompanied  her  tojhe  bath; 
for  no  man  could  boast  of  knowing  aught  of  Nyssia 


74  KING  CANDAULES 

save  the  colour  of  her  veil  and  the  elegant  folds  that 
she  involuntarily  impressed  upon  the  soft  materials 
which  robed  her  statuesque  body. 

The  barbarians  did  not  share  the  ideas  of  the  Greeks 
in  regard  to  modesty.  While  the  youths  of  Achaia 
made  no  scruple  of  allowing  their  oil-anointed  torsos 
to  shine  under  the  sun  in  the  stadium,  and  while  the 
Spartan  virgins  danced  ungarmented  before  the  altar 
of  Diana,  those  of  Persepolis,  Ebactana,  and  Bactria, 
attaching  more  importance  to  chastity  of  the  body 
than  to  chastity  of  mind,  considered  those  liberties 
allowed  to  the  pleasure  of  the  eyes  by  Greek  manner 
as  impure  and  highly  reprehensible,  and  held  no 
woman  virtuous  who  permitted  men  to  obtain  a 
glimpse  of  more  than  the  tip  of  her  foot  in  walking, 
as  it  slightly  deranged  the  discreet  folds  of  a  long 
tunic. 

Despite  all  this  mystery,  or  rather,  perhaps,  by  very 
reason  of  this  mystery,  the  fame  of  Nyssia  had  not 
been  slow  to  spread  throughout  all  Lydia,  and  become 
popular  there  to  such  a  degree  that  it  had  reached  even 
Candaules,  although  kings  are  ordinarily  the  most  illy 
informed  people  in  their  kingdoms,  and  live  like  the 
gods  in  a  kind  of  cloud  which  conceals  from  them  the 
knowledge  of  terrestrial  things. 

The  Eupatrid?e  of  Sardes,  who  hoped  that  the  young 
king  might,  perchance,  choose  a  wife  from  their 
family,  the  hetairai  of  Athens,  of  Samos,  of  Miletus 
and  of  Cyi)rus,  the  beautiful  slaves  from  the  banks  of 


KING  CANDAULES  75 

the  Indus,  the  blond  girls  brought  at  a  vast  expense 
from  the  depths  of  the  Cimmerian  fogs,  were  heedful 
never  to  utter  in  the  presence  of  Candaules,  whether 
within  hearing  or  beyond  hearing,  a  single  word  which 
bore  any  relation  to  Nyssia.  The  bravest,  in  a  question 
of  beauty,  recoil  before  the  prospect  of  a  contest  in 
which  they  can  anticipate  being  outrivalled. 

And  nevertheless  no  person  in  Sardes,  or  even  in 
Lydia,  had  beheld  this  redoubtable  adversary,  no  person 
save  one  solitary  being,  who  from  the  time  of  that 
encounter  had  kept  his  lips  as  firmly  closed  upon  the 
subject  as  though  Harpocrates,  the  god  of  silence, 
had  sealed  them  with  his  finger,  and  that  was  Gyges, 
chief  of  the  guards  of  Candaules.  One  day  Gyges, 
his  mind  filled  with  various  projects  and  vague 
ambitions,  had  been  wandering  among  the  Bactrian 
hills,  whither  his  master  had  sent  him  upon  an  im- 
portant and  secret  mission.  He  was  dreaming  of  the 
intoxication  of  omnipotence,  of  treading  upon  purple 
with  sandals  of  gold,  of  placing  the  diadem  upon  the 
brows  of  the  fairest  of  women. 

These  thoughts  made  his  blood  boil  in  his  veins, 
and,  as  though  to  pursue  the  flight  of  his  dreams,  he 
smote  his  sinewy  heel  upon  the  foam-whitened  flanks 
of  his  Numidian  horse. 

The  weather,  at  first  calm,  had  changed  and  waxed 
tempestuous  like  the  warrior's  soul;  and  Boreas,  his 
locks  bristling  with  Thracian  frosts,  his  cheeks  puffed 
out,  his  arms  folded  upon  his  breast,  smote  the  rain- 

G 


76  KING  CANDAULES 

freighted    clouds   with    the    mighty   beatings    of    his 
wings. 

A  bevy  of  young  girls  who  had  been  gathering  flowers 
in  the  meadow,  fearing  the  coming  storm,  were  return- 
ing to  the  city  in  all  haste,  each  carrying  her  perfumed 
harvest  in  the  lap  of  her  tunic.  Seeing  a  stranger  on 
horseback  approaching  in  the  distance,  they  had  hidden 
their  faces  in  their  mantles,  after  the  custom  of  the 
barbarians;  but  at  the  very  moment  that  Gyges  was 
passing  by  the  one  whose  proud  carriage  and  richer 
habiliments  seemed  to  designate  her  the  mistress  of  the 
little  band,  an  unusually  violent  gust  of  wind  carried 
away  the  veil  of  the  fair  unknown,  and,  whirling  it  through 
the  air  like  a  feather,  chased  it  to  such  a  distance  that 
it  could  not  be  recovered.  It  was  Nyssia,  daughter  of 
Megabazus,  who  found  herself  thus  with  face  unveiled 
in  the  presence  of  Gyges,  a  humble  captain  of  King 
Candaules's  guard.  Was  it  only  the  breath  of  Boreas 
which  had  brought  about  this  accident,  or  had  Eros, 
who  delights  to  vex  the  hearts  of  men,  amused  himself 
by  severing  the  string  which  had  fastened  the  protect- 
ing tissue  ?  However  that  may  have  been,  Gyges  was 
stricken  motionless  at  the  sight  of  that  Medusa  of  beauty, 
and  not  till  long  after  the  folds  of  Nyssia's  robe  had 
disappeared  beyond  the  gates  of  the  city  could  he 
think  of  proceeding  on  his  way.  Although  there  was 
nothing  to  justify  such  a  conjecture,  he  cherished  the 
belief  that  he  had  seen  the  satrap's  daughter;  and  that 
meeting,  which  affected  him  almost  like  an  apparition, 


KING  CANDAULES  77 

accorded  so  fully  with  the  thoughts  that  were  occupy- 
ing him  at  the  moment  of  its  occurrence,  that  he  could 
not  help  perceiving  therein  something  fateful  and 
ordained  of  the  gods.  In  truth  it  was  upon  that  brow 
that  he  would  have  wished  to  place  the  diadem. 
What  other  could  be  more  worthy  of  it?  But  what 
probability  was  there  that  Gyges  would  ever  have  a 
throne  to  share  ?  He  had  not  sought  to  follow  up  this 
adventure,  and  assure  himself  that  it  was  indeed  the 
daughter  of  Megabazus  whose  mysterious  face  had 
been  revealed  to  him  by  Chance,  the  great  filcher. 
Nyssia  had  fled  so  swiftly  that  it  would  have  been  im- 
possible for  him  then  to  overtake  her  ;  and,  moreover, 
he  had  been  dazzled,  fascinated,  thunder-stricken,  as  it 
were,  rather  than  charmed  by  that  superhuman  appari- 
tion, by  that  monster  of  beauty  ! 

Nevertheless  that  image,  although  seen  only  in  the 
glimpse  of  a  moment,  had  engraved  itself  upon  his 
heart  in  lines  deep  as  those  which  the  sculptors  trace 
on  ivory  with  tools  reddened  in  the  fire.  He  had 
endeavoured,  although  vainly,  to  efface  it,  for  the  love 
which  he  felt  for  Nyssia  inspired  him  with  a  secret 
terror.  Perfection  in  such  a  degree  is  ever  awe-inspir- 
ing, and  women  so  like  unto  goddesses  could  only  work 
evil  to  feeble  mortals ;  they  are  formed  for  divine  adul- 
teries, and  even  the  most  courageous  men  never  risk 
themselves  in  such  amours  without  trembling.  There- 
fore no  hope  had  blossomed  in  the  soul  of  Gyges,  over- 
whelmed and  discouraged  in  advance  by  the  sentiment 


78  KING  CANDAULES 

of  the  impossible.  Ere  opening  his  Hps  to  Nyssia  he 
would  have  wished  to  despoil  the  heaven  of  its  robe  of 
stars,  to  take  from  Phcebus  his  crown  of  rays,  forgetting 
that  women  only  give  themselves  to  those  unworthy  of 
them,  and  that  to  win  their  love  one  must  act  as  though 
he  desired  to  earn  their  hate. 

From  that  day  the  roses  of  joy  no  longer  bloomed 
upon  his  cheeks.  By  day  he  was  sad  and  mournful, 
and  seemed  to  wander  abroad  in  solitary  dreaming,  like 
a  mortal  who  has  beheld  a  divinity.  At  night  he  was 
haunted  by  dreams  in  which  he  beheld  Nyssia  seated  by 
his  side  upon  cushions  of  purple  between  the  golden 
griffins  of  the  royal  throne. 

Therefore  Gyges,  the  only  one  who  could  speak 
of  his  own  knowledge  concerning  Nyssia,  having  never 
spoken  of  her,  the  Sardians  were  left  to  their  own  con- 
jectures in  her  regard  ;  and  their  conjectures,  it  must 
be  confessed,  were  fantastic  and  dtogether  fabulous. 
The  beauty  of  Nyssia,  thanks  to  the  veils  which 
shrouded  her,  became  a  sort  of  myth,  a  canvas,  a  poem 
to  which  each  one  added  ornamentation  as  the  fancy 
took  him. 

'  If  report  be  not  false,'  lisped  a  young  debauchee 
from  Athens,  who  stood  with  one  hand  upon  the 
shoulder  of  an  Asiatic  boy,  'neither  Plangon,  nor 
Archianassa,  nor  Thais  can  be  compared  with  this  mar- 
vellous barbarian ;  yet  I  can  scarce  believe  that  she 
equals  Theano  of  Colophon,  from  whom  I  once  bought 
a  single  night  at  the  price  of  as   much  gold   as   she 


KING  CANDAULES  79 

could  bear  away,  after  having  plunged  both  her  white 
arms  up  to  the  shoulder  in  my  cedar-wood  coffer.' 

'  Beside  her,'  added  a  Eupatrid,  who  pretended  to 
be  better  informed  than  any  other  person  upon  all 
manner  of  subjects,  '  beside  her  the  daughter  of  Coelus 
and  the  Sea  would  seem  but  a  mere  Ethiopian  servant.' 

'  Your  words  are  blasphemy,  and  although  Aphrodite 
be  a  kind  and  indulgent  goddess,  beware  of  drawing 
down  her  anger  upon  you.' 

'  By  Hercules  ! — and  that  ought  to  be  an  oath  of 
some  weight  in  a  city  ruled  by  one  of  his  descendants 
— I  cannot  retract  a  word  of  it.' 

'  You  have  seen  her,  then  ? ' 

'  No ;  but  I  have  a  slave  in  my  service  who  once 
belonged  to  Nyssia,  and  who  has  told  me  a  hundred 
stories  about  her.' 

*  Is  it  true,' demanded  in  infantile  tones  an  equivocai- 
looking  woman  whose  pale-rose  tunic,  painted  cheeks, 
and  locks  shining  with  essences  betrayed  wretched  pre- 
tensions to  a  youth  long  passed  away — '  is  it  true  that 
Nyssia  has  two  pupils  in  each  eye  ?  It  seems  to 
me  that  must  be  very  ugly,  and  I  cannot  understand 
how  Candaules  could  fall  in  love  with  such  a  mon- 
strosity, while  there  is  no  lack,  at  Sardes  and  in  Lydia, 
of  women  whose  eyes  are  irreproachable.' 

And  uttering  these  words  with  all  sorts  of  affected 
airs  and  simperings,  Lamia  took  a  little  significant  peep 
in  a  small  mirror  of  cast  metal  which  she  drew  from  her 
bosom,  and  which  enabled  her  to  lead  back  to  duty 


8o  KING  CANDAULES 

certain  wandering  curls  disarranged  by  the  impertinence 
of  the  wind. 

'As  to  the  double  pupil,  that  seems  to  me  nothing 
more  than  an  old  nurse's  tale,'  observed  the  well- 
informed  patrician  ;  '  but  it  is  a  fact  that  Nyssia's  eyes 
are  so  piercing  that  she  can  see  through  walls.  Lynxes 
are  myopic  compared  with  her.' 

'  How  can  a  sensible  man  coolly  argue  about  such  an 
absurdity  ? '  interrupted  a  citizen,  whose  bald  skull, 
and  the  flood  of  snowy  beard  into  which  he  plunged 
his  fingers  while  speaking,  lent  him  an  air  of  pre- 
ponderance and  philosophical  sagacity.  '  The  truth  is 
that  the  daughter  of  Megabazus  cannot  naturally  see 
through  a  wall  any  better  than  you  or  I,  but  the 
Egyptian  priest  Thoutmosis,  who  knows  so  many  won- 
drous secrets,  has  given  her  the  mysterious  stone  which 
is  found  in  the  heads  of  dragons,  and  whose  property, 
as  every  one  knows,  renders  all  shadows  and  the  most 
opaque  bodies  transparent  to  the  eyes  of  those  who 
possess  it.  Nyssia  always  carries  this  stone  in  her 
girdle,  or  else  set  into  her  bracelet,  and  in  that  may  be 
found  the  secret  of  her  clairvoyance.' 

The  citizen's  explanation  seemed  the  most  natural 
one  to  those  of  the  group  whose  conversation  we  are 
endeavouring  to  reproduce,  and  the  opinions  of  Lamia 
and  the  patrician  were  abandoned  as  improbable. 

'  At  all  events,'  returned  the  lover  of  Theano,  '  we 
■are  going  to  have  an  opportunity  of  judging  for  our- 
selves, for   it   seems   to   me   that  I  hear  the  clarions 


KING  CANDAULES  Si 

sounding  in  the  distance,  and  though  Nyssia  is  still  in- 
visible, I  can  see  the  herald  yonder  approaching  with 
palm  branc>.es  in  his  hands,  to  announce  the  arrival 
of  the  nuptial  cortege,  and  make  the  crowd  fall 
back.' 

At  this  news,  which  spread  rapidly  through  the 
crowd,  the  strong  men  elbowed  their  way  toward  the 
front  ranks  ;  the  agile  boys,  embracing  the  shafts  of  the 
columns,  sought  to  climb  up  to  the  capitals  and  there 
seat  themselves  ;  others,  not  without  having  skinned 
their  knees  against  the  bark,  succeeded  in  perching 
themselves  comfortably  enough  in  the  Y  of  some  tree- 
branch.  The  women  lifted  their  little  children  upon 
their  shoulders,  warning  them  to  hold  tightly  to  their 
necks.  Those  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  dwell  on 
the  street  along  which  Candaules  and  Nyssia  were  about 
to  pass,  leaned  over  from  the  summit  of  their  roofs, 
or,  rising  on  their  elbows,  abandoned  for  a  time  the 
cushions  upon  which  they  had  been  reclining. 

A  murmur  of  satisfaction  and  gratified  expectation 
ran  through  the  crowd,  which  had  already  been  waiting 
many  long  hours,  for  the  arrows  of  the  midday  sun 
were  commencing  to  sting. 

The  heavy-armed  warriors,  with  cuirasses  of  buU's- 
hide  covered  with  overlapping  plates  of  metal,  helmets 
adorned  with  plumes  of  horse-hair  dyed  red,  knemides 
or  greaves  faced  with  tin,  baldrics  studded  with  nails, 
emblazoned  bucklers,  and  swords  of  brass,  rode  behind 
a  line  of  trumpeters  v/ho  blew  with  might  and  main 


82  KING  CANDAULES 

upon  their  long  tubes,  which  gleamed  under  the  sun- 
light. The  horses  of  these  warriors  were  all  white  as 
the  feet  of  Thetis,  and  might  have  served,  by  reason  of 
their  noble  paces  and  purity  of  breeds,  as  models  for 
those  which  Phidias  at  a  later  day  sculptured  upon  the 
metopes  of  the  Parthenon. 

At  the  head  of  this  troop  rode  Gyges,  the  well-named, 
for  his  name  in  the  Lydian  tongue  signifies  beautiful. 
His  features,  of  the  most  exquisite  regularity,  seemed 
chiselled  in  marble,  owing  to  his  intense  pallor,  for  he 
had  just  discovered  in  Nyssia,  although  she  was  veiled 
with  the  veil  of  a  young  bride,  the  same  woman  whose 
face  had  been  betrayed  to  his  gaze  by  the  treachery  of 
Boreas  under  the  walls  of  Bactria. 

'Handsome  Gyges  looks  very  sad,' said  the  young 
maidens.  *  What  proud  beauty  could  have  secured  his 
love,  or  what  forsaken  one  has  caused  some  Thessalian 
witch  to  cast  a  spell  on  him  ?  Has  that  cabalistic  ring 
(which  he  is  said  to  have  found  hidden  within  the  flanks 
of  a  brazen  horse  in  the  midst  of  some  forest)  lost  its 
virtue,  and  suddenly  ceasing  to  render  its  owner  in- 
visible, betrayed  him  to  the  astonished  eyes  of  some 
innocent  husband,  who  had  deemed  himself  alone  in  his 
conjugal  chamber  ? ' 

'Perhaps  he  has  been  wasting  his  talents  and  his 
drachmas  at  the  game  of  Palamedes,  or  else  it  may  be 
that  he  is  disappointed  at  not  having  won  the  prize  at 
the  Olympian  games.  He  had  great  faith  in  his  horse 
Hyperion.' 


KING  CANDAULES  83 

No  one  of  these  conjectures  was  true.  A  fact  is 
never  guessed. 

After  the  battahon  commanded  by  Gyges,  there  came 
young  boys  crowned  with  myrtle-wreaths,  and  singing 
epithalamic  hymns  after  the  Lydian  manner,  accom- 
panying themselves  upon  lyres  of  ivory,  which  they 
played  with  bows.  All  were  clad  in  rose-coloured 
tunics  ornamented  with  a  silver  Greek  border,  and  their 
long  hair  flowed  down  over  their  shoulders  in  thick 
curls. 

They  preceded  the  gift-bearers,  strong  slaves  whose 
half-nude  bodies  exposed  to  view  such  interlacements 
of  muscle  as  the  stoutest  athletes  might  have  envied. 

Upon  brancards,  supported  by  two  or  four  men  or 
more,  according  to  the  weight  of  the  objects  borne, 
were  placed  enormous  brazen  cratera,  chiselled  by  the 
most  famous  artists ;  vases  of  gold  and  silver  whose 
sides  were  adorned  with  bas-reliefs  and  whose  hands 
were  elegantly  worked  into  chimeras,  foliage,  and 
nude  women ;  magnificent  ewers  to  be  used  in  washing 
the  feet  of  illustrious  guests ;  flagons  encrusted  with 
precious  stones  and  containing  the  rarest  perfumes ; 
myrrh  from  Arabia,  cinnamon  from  the  Indies,  spike- 
nard from  Persia,  essence  of  roses  from  Smyrna; 
kamklins  or  perfuming  pans,  with  perforated  covers; 
cedar-wood  or  ivory  coffers  of  marvellous  workmanship, 
which  opened  with  a  secret  spring  tliat  none  save  the  in- 
ventor could  find,  and  which  contained  bracelets  wrought 
from  the  gold  of  Ophir,  necklaces  of  the  most  lustrous 


84  KING  CANDAULES 

pearls,  mantle-brooches  constellated  with  rubies  and 
carbuncles;  toilet -boxes  containing  blond  sponges, 
curling-irons,  sea-wolves'  teeth  to  polish  the  nails,  the 
green  rouge  of  Egypt,  which  turns  to  a  most  beautiful 
pink  on  touching  the  skin,  powders  to  darken  the  eye- 
lashes and  eyebrows,  and  all  the  refinements  that  femi- 
nine coquetry  could  invent.  Other  litters  were  freighted 
with  purple  robes  of  the  finest  linen  and  of  all  possible 
shades  from  the  incarnadine  hue  of  the  rose  to  the  deep 
crimson  of  the  blood  of  the  grape  ;  calasires  of  the 
linen  of  Canopus,  which  is  thrown  all  white  into  the  vat 
of  the  dyer,  and  comes  forth  again,  owing  to  the  various 
astringents  in  which  it  had  been  steeped,  diapered  with 
the  most  brilliant  colours;  tunics  brought  from  the 
fabulous  land  of  Seres,  made  from  the  spun  sUme  of  a 
worm  which  feeds  upon  leaves,  and  so  fine  that  they 
might  be  drawn  through  a  finger-ring. 

Ethiopians,  whose  bodies  shone  like  jet,  and  whose 
temples  were  tightly  bound  with  cords,  lest  they  should 
burst  the  veins  of  their  foreheads  in  the  effort  to  uphold 
their  burden,  carried  in  great  pomp  a  statue  of  Hercules, 
the  ancestor  of  Candaules,  of  colossal  size,  wrought  of 
ivory  and  gold,  with  the  club,  the  skin  of  the  Nemean 
lion,  the  three  apples  from  the  garden  of  the  Hesperides, 
and  all  the  traditional  attributes  of  the  hero. 

Statues  of  Venus  Urania,  and  of  Venus  Genitrix, 
sculptured  by  the  best  pupils  of  the  Sicyon  School  i  . 
that  marble  of  Paros  whose  gleaming  transparency 
seemed  expressly  created  for  the  representation  of  the 


KING  CANDAULES  85 

ever-youthful  flesh  of  the  immortals,  were  borne  after 
the  statue  of  Hercules,  which  admirably  relieved  the 
harmony  and  elegance  of  their  proportions  by  contrast 
with  its  massive  outlines  and  rugged  forms. 

A  painting  by  Bularchus,  which  Candaules  had  pur- 
chased for  its  weight  in  gold,  executed  upon  the  wood 
of  the  female  larch-tree,  and  representing  the  defeat  of 
the  Magnesians,  evoked  universal  admiration  by  the 
beauty  of  its  design,  the  truthfulness  of  the  attitude  of 
its  figures,  and  the  harmony  of  its  colouring,  although 
the  artist  had  only  employed  in  its  production  the  four 
primitive  colours :  Attic  ochre,  white.  Pontic  sifwpis, 
and  afnuneniu??}.  The  young  king  loved  painting  and 
sculpture  even  more,  perhaps,  than  well  became  a 
monarch,  and  he  had  not  unfrequently  bought  a  picture 
at  a  price  equal  to  the  annual  revenue  of  a  whole  city. 

Camels  and  dromedaries,  splendidly  caparisoned, 
with  musicians  seated  on  their  necks  performing  upon 
drums  and  cymbals,  carried  the  gilded  stakes,  the 
cords,  and  the  material  of  the  tent  designed  for  the  use 
of  the  queen  during  voyages  and  hunting  parties. 

These  spectacles  of  magnificence  would  upon  any 
other  occasion  have  ravished  the  people  of  Sardes  with 
delight,  but  their  curiosity  had  been  enlisted  in  another 
direction,  and  it  was  not  without  a  certain  feeling  of 
impatience  that  they  watched  this  portion  of  the  pro- 
cession file  by.  The  young  maidens  and  the  handsome 
boys,  bearing  flaming  torches,  and  strewing  handfuls  of 
crocus  flowers   along   the    way,    hardly  attracted   any 


86  KING  CANDAULES 

attention.     The   idea   of  beholding   Nyssia   had  pre- 
occupied all  minds. 

At  last  Candaules  appeared,  riding  in  a  chariot 
drawn  by  four  horses,  as  beautiful  and  spirited  as  those 
of  the  sun,  all  rolling  their  golden  bits  in  foam,  shaking 
their  purple-decked  manes,  and  restrained  with  great 
difficulty  by  the  driver,  who  stood  erect  at  the  side  of 
Candaules,  and  was  leaning  back  to  gain  more  power 
on  the  reins. 

Candaules  was  a  young  man  full  of  vigour,  and  well 
worthy  of  his  Herculean  origin.  His  head  was  joined 
to  his  shoulders  by  a  neck  massive  as  a  bull's,  and 
almost  without  a  curve;  his  hair,  black  and  lustrous, 
twisted  itself  into  rebellious  little  curls,  here  and  there 
concealing  the  circlet  of  his  diadem  ;  his  ears,  small 
and  upright,  were  of  a  ruddy  hue  ;  his  forehead  was  broad 
and  full,  though  a  little  low,  like  all  antique  foreheads ; 
his  eyes  full  of  gentle  melancholy,  his  oval  cheeks,  his 
chin  with  its  gentle  and  regular  curves,  his  mouth  with 
its  slightly  parted  lips — all  bespoke  the  nature  of  the 
poet  rather  than  that  of  the  warrior.  In  fact,  although 
he  was  brave,  skilled  in  all  bodily  exercises,  could 
subdue  a  wild  horse  as  well  as  any  of  the  Lapithaj,  or 
swim  across  the  current  of  rivers  when  they  descended, 
swollen  with  melted  snow,  from  the  mountains, 
although  he  might  have  bent  the  bow  of  Odysseus  or 
borne  the  shield  of  Achilles,  he  seemed  little  occupied 
with  dreams  of  conquest ;  and  war  usually  so  fascinat- 
ing to  young  kings,  had  little  attraction  for  him.     He 


KING  CANDAULES  87 

contented  himself  with  repelling  the  attacks  of  his 
ambitious  neighbours,  and  sought  not  to  extend  his 
own  dominions.  He  preferred  building  palaces,  after 
plans  suggested  by  himself  to  the  architects,  who  always 
found  the  king's  hints  of  no  small  value,  or  to  form 
collections  of  statues  and  paintings  by  artists  of  the  elder 
and  later  schools.  He  had  the  works  of  Telephanes 
of  Sicyon,  Cleanthes,  Ardices  of  Corinth,  Hygiemon, 
Deinias,  Charmides,  Eumarus,  and  Cimon,  some  being 
simple  drawings,  and  others  paintings  in  various  colours 
or  monochromes.  It  was  even  said  that  Candaules  had 
not  disdained  to  wield  with  his  own  royal  hands — a 
thing  hardly  becoming  a  prince — the  chisel  of  the 
sculptor  and  the  sponge  of  the  encaustic  painter. 

But  why  should  we  dwell  upon  Candaules?  The 
reader  undoubtedly  feels  like  the  people  of  Sardes  :  and 
it  is  of  Nyssia  that  he  desires  to  hear. 

The  daughter  of  Megabazus  was  mounted  upon  an 
elephant,  with  wrinkled  skin  and  immense  ears  which 
seemed  like  flags,  who  advanced  with  a  heavy  but  rapid 
gait,  like  a  vessel  in  the  midst  of  the  waves.  His  tusks 
and  his  trunk  were  encircled  with  silver  rings,  and 
around  the  pillars  of  his  limbs  were  entwined  necklaces 
of  enormous  pearls.  Upon  his  back,  which  was  covered 
with  a  magnificent  Persian  carpet  of  striped  pattern, 
stood  a  sort  of  estrade  overlaid  with  gold  finely  chased, 
and  constellated  with  onyx  stones,  carnelians,  chryso- 
lites, lapis-lazuli,  and  girasols ;  upon  this  estrade  sat  the 
young  queen,  so  covered  with  precious  stones   as   to 


88  KING  CANDAULES 

dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  beholders.     A  mitre,  shaped  like 
a  helmet,  on  which  pearls  formed  flower  designs  and 
letters  after  the  Oriental  manner,  was  placed  upon  her 
head ;  her  ears,  both  the  lobes  and  rims  of  which  had 
been  pierced,  were  adorned  with  ornaments  in  the  form 
of  little  cups,  crescents,  and  balls ;  necklaces  of  gold 
and  silver  beads,  which  had  been  hollowed  out  and 
carved,  thrice  encircled  her  neck  and  descended  with 
a  metallic  tinkling  upon  her  bosom ;  emerald  serpents 
with  topaz  or  ruby  eyes  coiled  themselves  in  many  folds 
about  her  arms,  and  clasped  themselves  by  biting  their 
own  tails.     These  bracelets  were  connected  by  chains 
of  precious  stones,  and  so  great  was  their  weight  that 
two  attendants  were  required  to  kneel  beside  Nyssia 
and   support   her   elbows.     She   was   clad   in    a   robe 
embroidered  by  Syrian  workmen  with  shining  designs 
of  golden  foliage   and   diamond  fruits,  and  over   this 
she  wore  the  short  tunic  of  Persepolis,  which  hardly 
descended  to  the  knee,  and  of  which  the  sleeves  were 
slit  and  fastened  by  sapphire  clasps.     Her  waist  was 
encircled  from  hip  to  loins  by  a   girdle  wrought   of 
narrow  material,  variegated  with  stripes  and  flowered 
designs,   which   formed   themselves   into   symmetrical 
patterns  as  they  were  brought  together  by  a  certain 
arrangement  of  the  folds  which  Indian  girls  alone  know 
how   to   make.      Her   trousers   of  byssus,    which   the 
Phoenicians  called  syndofi,  were  confined  at  the  ankles  by 
anklets  adorned  with  gold  and  silver  bells,  and  completed 
this  toilet  so  fantastically  rich  and  wholly  opposed  to 


KING  CANDAULES  89 

Greek  taste.  But,  alas !  a  saffron-coloured  flammeurn 
pitilessly  masked  the  face  of  Nyssia,  who  seemed  em- 
barrassed, veiled  though  she  was,  at  finding  so  many 
eyes  fixed  upon  her,  and  frequently  signed  to  a  slave 
behind  her  to  lower  the  parasol  of  ostrich  plumes,  and 
thus  conceal  her  yet  more  from  the  curious  gaze  of  the 
crowd. 

Candaules  had  vainly  begged  of  her  to  lay  aside  her 
veil,  even  for  that  solemn  occasion.  The  young 
barbarian  had  refused  to  pay  the  welcome  of  her 
beauty  to  his  people.  Great  was  the  disappointment. 
Lamia  declared  that  Nyssia  dared  not  uncover  her  face 
for  fear  of  showing  her  double  pupil.  The  young 
libertine  remained  convinced  that  Theano  of  Colophon 
was  more  beautiful  than  the  queen  of  Sardes;  and 
Gyges  sighed  when  he  beheld  Nyssia,  after  having  made 
her  elephant  kneel  down,  descend  upon  the  inclined 
heads  of  Damascus  slaves  as  upon  a  living  ladder,  to 
the  threshold  of  the  royal  dwelling,  where  the  elegance 
of  Greek  architecture  was  blended  with  the  fantasies 
and  enormities  of  Asiatic  taste. 


CHAPTER  II 

In  our  character  of  poet  we  have  the  right  to  lift 
the  saffron-coloured  flajumeum  which  concealed  the 
young  bride,  being  more  fortunate  in  this  wise  than  the 


go  KING  CANDAULES 

Sardians,  who  after  a  whole  day's  waiting  were  obliged 
to  return  to  their  houses,  and  were  left,  as  before,  to 
their  own  conjectures. 

Nyssia  was  really  far  superior  to  her  reputation, 
great  as  it  was.  It  seemed  as  though  Nature  in  creating 
her  had  resolved  to  exhaust  her  utmost  powers,  and 
thus  make  atonement  for  all  former  experimental 
attempts  and  fruitless  essays.  One  would  have  said 
that,  moved  by  jealousy  of  the  future  marvels  of  the 
Greek  sculptors,  she  also  had  resolved  to  model  a 
statue  herself,  and  to  prove  that  she  was  still  sovereign 
mistress  in  the  plastic  art. 

The  grain  of  snow,  the  micaceous  brilliancy  of  Parian 
marble,  the  sparkling  pulp  of  balsamine  flowers,  would 
render  but  a  feeble  idea  of  the  ideal  substance  whereof 
Nyssia  had  been  formed.  That  flesh,  so  fine,  so 
delicate,  permitted  daylight  to  penetrate  it,  and  modelled 
itself  in  transparent  contours,  in  lines  as  sweetly  har- 
monious as  music  itself.  According  to  different  sur- 
roundings, it  took  the  colour  of  the  sunlight  or  of 
purple,  like  the  aromal  body  of  a  divinity,  and  seemed 
to  radiate  light  and  life.  The  world  of  perfections 
inclosed  within  the  nobly  lengthened  oval  of  her  chaste 
face  could  have  been  rendered  by  no  earthly  art — 
neither  by  the  chisel  of  the  sculptor,  nor  the  brush  of 
the  painter,  nor  the  style  of  any  poet — though  it 
were  Praxiteles,  Apelles,  or  Mimnernus  ;  and  on  her 
smooth  brow,  bathed  by  waves  of  hair  amber-bright 
as   molten   electrum   and   sprinkled  with  gold  fiUngs, 


KING  CANDAULES  91 

according  to  the  Babylonian  custom,  sat  as  upon  a 
jasper  throne  the  unalterable  serenity  of  perfect 
loveliness. 

As  for  her  eyes,  though  they  did  not  justify  what 
popular  credulity  said  of  them,  they  were  at  least 
wonderfully  strange  eyes ;  brown  eyebrows,  with  ex- 
tremities ending  in  points  elegant  as  those  of  the  arrows 
of  Eros,  and  which  were  joined  to  each  other  by  a 
streak  of  henna  after  the  Asiatic  fashion,  and  long 
fringes  of  silkily-shadowed  eyelashes  contrasted  strik- 
ingly with  the  twin  sapphire  stars  rolling  in  the  heaven 
of  dark  silver  which  formed  those  eyes.  The  irises 
of  those  eyes,  whose  pupils  were  blacker  than  atrament, 
varied  singularly  in  shades  of  shifting  colour.  From 
sapphire  they  changed  to  turquoise,  from  turquoise  to 
beryl,  from  beryl  to  yellow  amber,  and  sometimes,  like 
a  limpid  lake  whose  bottom  is  strewn  with  jewels,  they 
offered,  through  their  incalculable  depths,  glimpses  of 
golden  and  diamond  sands  upon  which  green  fibrils 
vibrated  and  twisted  themselves  into  emerald  serpents. 
In  those  orbs  of  phosphoric  lightning  the  rays  of  suns 
extinguished,  the  splendours  of  vanished  worlds,  the 
glories  of  Olympus  eclipsed — all  seemed  to  have  con- 
centrated their  reflections.  When  contemplating  them 
one  thought  of  eternity,  and  felt  himself  seized  with  a 
mighty  giddiness,  as  though  he  were  leaning  over  the 
verge  of  the  Infinite. 

The  expression  of  those  extraordinary  eyes  was  not 
less  variable  than  their  tint.     At  times  their  lids  opened 

H 


92  KING  CANDAULES 

like  the  portals  of  celestial  dwellings ;  they  invited  you 
into  elysiums  of  light,  of  azure,  of  ineffable  felicity; 
they  promised  you  the  realisation,  tenfold,  a  hundred- 
fold, of  all  your  dreams  of  happiness,  as  though  they 
had  divined  your  soul's  most  secret  thoughts;  again, 
impenetrable  as  sevenfold  plated  shields  of  the  hardest 
metals,  they  flung  back  your  gaze  like  blunted  and 
broken  arrows.  With  a  simple  inflexion  of  the  brow, 
a  mere  flash  of  the  pupil,  more  terrible  than  the 
thunder  of  Zeus,  they  precipitated  you  from  the  heights 
of  your  most  ambitious  escalades  into  depths  of  nothing- 
ness so  profound  that  it  was  impossible  to  rise  again. 
Typhon  himself,  who  writhes  under  ^tna,  could  not 
have  lifted  the  mountains  of  disdain  with  which  they 
overwhelmed  you.  One  felt  that  though  he  should  live 
for  a  thousand  Olympiads  endowed  with  the  beauty 
of  the  fair  son  of  Latona,  the  genius  of  Orpheus,  the 
unbounded  might  of  Assyrian  kings,  the  treasures  of 
the  Cabeirei,  the  Telchines,  and  the  Dactyli,  gods  of 
subterranean  wealth,  he  could  never  change  their  ex- 
pression to  mildness. 

At  other  times  their  languishment  was  so  Hquidly 
persuasive,  their  brilliancy  and  irradiation  so  penetrat- 
ing, that  the  icy  coldness  of  Nestor  and  Priam  would 
have  melted  under  their  gaze,  like  the  wax  of  the  wings 
of  Icarus  when  he  approached  the  flaming  zones.  For 
one  such  glance  a  man  would  have  gladly  steeped  his 
hands  in  the  blood  of  his  host,  scattered  the  ashes  of 
his  father  to  the  four  winds,  overthrown  the  holy  images 


KING  CANDAULES  93 

of  the  gods,  and  stolen  the  fire  of  heaven  itself,  like  the 
sublime  thief,  Prometheus. 

Nevertheless,  their  most  ordinary  expression,  it  must 
be  confessed,  was  of  a  chastity  to  make  one  desperate 
— a  sublime  coldness — an  ignorance  of  all  possibilities 
of  human  passion,  such  as  would  have  made  the  moon- 
bright  eyes  of  Phoebe  or  the  sea-green  eyes  of  Athena 
appear  by  comparison  more  liquidly  tempting  than 
those  of  a  young  girl  of  Babylon  sacrificing  to  the 
goddess  Mylitta  within  the  cord-circled  enclosure  of 
Succoth-Benohl.  Their  invincible  virginity  seemed  to 
bid  love  defiance. 

The  cheeks  of  Nyssia,  which  no  human  gaze  had 
ever  profaned,  save  that  of  Gyges  on  the  day  when  the 
veil  was  blown  away,  possessed  a  youthful  bloom,  a 
tender  pallor,  a  delicacy  of  grain,  and  a  downiness 
whereof  the  faces  of  our  women,  perpetually  exposed 
to  sunlight  and  air,  cannot  convey  the  most  distant 
idea.  Modesty  created  fleeting  rosy  clouds  upon  them 
like  those  which  a  drop  of  crimson  essence  would  form 
in  a  cup  of  milk,  and  when  uncoloured  by  any  emotion 
they  took  a  silvery  sheen,  a  warm  light,  like  an  alabaster 
vessel  illumined  by  a  lamp  within.  That  lamp  was  her 
charming  soul,  which  exposed  to  view  the  transpar- 
ency of  her  flesh. 

A  bee  would  have  been  deceived  by  her  mouth, 
whose  form  was  so  perfect,  whose  corners  were  so 
purely  dimpled,  whose  crimson  was  so  rich  and  warm 
that   the    gods    would    have    descended    from    their 


94  KING  CANDAULES 

Olympian  dwellings  in  order  to  touch  it  with  lips 
humid  with  immortality,  but  that  the  jealousy  of  the 
goddesses  restrained  their  impetuosity.  Happy  the 
wind  which  passed  through  that  purple  and  pearl, 
which  dilated  those  pretty  nostrils,  so  finely  cut  and 
shaded  with  rosy  tints  like  the  mother-of-pearl  of  the 
shells  thrown  by  the  sea  on  the  shore  of  Cyprus  at  the 
feet  of  Venus  Anadyomene  !  But  are  there  not  a 
multitude  of  favours  thus  granted  to  things  which  can- 
not understand  them  ?  What  lover  would  not  wish  to 
be  the  tunic  of  his  well-beloved  or  the  water  of  her 
bath? 

Such  was  Nyssia,  if  we  dare  make  use  of  the  ex- 
pression after  so  vague  a  description  of  her  face.  If 
our  foggy  Northern  idioms  had  the  warm  liberty,  the 
burning  enthusiasm  of  the  Sir  Hasirim,  we  might, 
perhaps,  by  comparisons — awakening  in  the  mind  of 
the  reader  memories  of  flowers  and  perfumes,  of  music 
and  sunlight,  evoking,  by  the  magic  of  words,  all  the 
graceful  and  charming  images  that  the  universe  can 
contain — have  been  able  to  give  some  idea  of  Nyssia's 
features ;  but  it  is  permitted  to  Solomon  alone  to 
compare  the  nose  of  a  beautiful  woman  to  the  tower 
of  Lebanon  which  looketh  toward  Damascus.  And 
yet  what  is  there  in  the  world  of  more  importance  than 
the  nose  of  a  beautiful  woman  ?  Had  Helen,  the 
white  Tyndarid,  been  flat-nosed,  would  the  Trojan 
War  have  taken  place  ?  And  if  the  profile  of  Semi- 
ramis  had  not  been  perfectly  regular,  would  she  have 


KING  CANDAULES  95 

bewitched  the  old  monarch  of  Nineveh  and  encircled 
her  brow  with  the  mitre  of  pearls,  the  symbol  of 
supreme  power  ? 

Although  Candaules  had  brought  to  his  palace  the 
most  beautiful  slaves  from  the  people  of  the  Sorse,  of. 
Askalon,  of  Sogdiana,  of  the  Sac^e,  of  Rhapta,  the  most 
celebrated  courtesans  from  Ephesus,  from  Pergamus, 
from  Smyrna,  and  from  Cyprus,  he  was  completely 
fascinated  by  the  charms  of  Nyssia.  Up  to  that  time 
he  had  not  even  suspected  the  existence  of  such 
perfection. 

Privileged  as  a  husband  to"  enjoy  fully  the  contem- 
plation of  this  beauty,  he  found  himself  dazzled,  giddy, 
like  one  who  leans  over  the  edge  of  an  abyss,  or  fixes 
his  eyes  upon  the  sun ;  he  felt  himself  seized,  as  it 
were,  with  the  dilirium  of  possession,  Hke  a  priest 
drunk  with  the  god  who  fills  and  moves  him.  All 
other  thoughts  disappeared  from  his  soul,  and  the 
universe  seemed  to  him  only  as  a  vague  mist  in  the 
midst  of  which  beamed  the  shining  phantom  of  Nyssia. 
His  happiness  transformed  itself  into  ecstasy,  and  his 
love  into  madness.  At  times  his  very  felicity  terrified 
him.  To  be  only  a  wretched  king,  only  a  remote 
descendant  of  a  hero  who  had  become  a  god  by  mighty 
labours,  only  a  common  man  formed  of  flesh  and  bone, 
and  without  having  in  aught  rendered  himself  worthy 
of  it — without  having  even,  like  his  ancestor,  strangled 
some  hydra,  or  torn  some  lion  asunder — to  enjoy  a 
happiness  whereof  Zeus  of  the  ambrosial  hair  would 


96  KING  CANDAULES 

scarce  be  worthy,  though  lord  of  all  Olympus !  He 
felt,  as  it  were,  a  shame  to  thus  hoard  up  for  himself 
alone  so  rich  a  treasure,  to  steal  this  marvel  from  the 
world,  to  be  the  dragon  with  scales  and  claws  who 
guarded  the  living  type  of  the  ideal  of  lovers,  sculptors, 
and  poets.  All  they  had  ever  dreamed  of  in  their 
hope,  their  melancholy,  and  their  despair,  he  possessed 
— he,  Candaules,  poor  tyrant  of  Sardes,  who  had  only 
a  few  wretched  cofters  filled  with  pearls,  a  few  cisterns 
filled  with  gold  pieces,  and  thirty  or  forty  thousand 
slaves,  purchased  or  taken  in  war. 

Candaules's  felicity  was  too  great  for  him,  and  the 
strength  which  he  would  doubtless  have  found  at  his 
command  in  time  of  misfortune  was  wanting  to  him  in 
time  of  happiness.  His  joy  overflowed  from  his  soul 
like  water  from  a  vase  placed  upon  the  fire,  and  in  the 
exasperation  of  his  enthusiasm  for  Nyssia  he  had 
reached  the  point  of  desiring  that  she  were  less  timid 
and  less  modest,  for  it  cost  him  no  little  effort  to  retain 
in  his  own  breast  the  secret  of  such  wondrous  beauty. 

'  Ah,'  he  would  murmur  to  himself  during  the  deep 
reveries  which  absorbed  him  at  all  hours  that  he  did 
not  spend  at  the  queen's  side,  '  how  strange  a  lot  is 
mine  !  I  am  wretched  because  of  that  which  would 
make  any  other  husband  happy.  Nyssia  will  not  leave 
the  shadow  of  the  gynceceum,  and  refuses,  with  bar- 
barian modesty,  to  lift  her  veil  in  the  presence  of  any 
other  than  myself.  Yet  with  what  an  intoxication  of 
pride  would    my   love   behold  her,  radiantly  sublime. 


KING  CANDAULES  97 

gaze  down  upon  my  kneeling  people  from  the  summit 
of  the  royal  steps,  and,  like  the  rising  dawn,  extinguish 
all  those  pale  stars  who  during  the  night  thought  them- 
selves suns  !  Proud  Lydian  women,  who  believe  your- 
selves beautiful,  but  for  Nyssia's  reserve  you  would 
appear,  even  to  your  lovers,  as  ugly  as  the  oblique- 
eyed  and  thick-lipped  slaves  of  Nahasi  and  Kush, 
Were  she  but  once  to  pass  along  the  streets  of  Sardes 
with  face  unveiled,  you  might  in  vain  pull  your  adorers 
by  the  lappet  of  their  tunic,  for  none  of  them  would 
turn  his  head,  or,  if  he  did,  it  would  be  to  demand 
your  name,  so  utterly  would  he  have  forgotten  you  ! 
They  would  rush  to  precipitate  themselves  beneath  the 
silver  wheels  of  her  chariot,  that  they  might  have  even 
the  pleasure  of  being  crushed  by  her,  like  those  devotees 
of  the  Indus  who  pave  the  pathway  of  their  idol  with 
their  bodies. 

'And  you,  O  goddesses,  whom  Paris- Alexander 
judged,  had  Nyssia  appeared  among  you,  not  one  of 
you  would  have  borne  away  the  golden  apple,  not  even 
Aphrodite,  despite  her  cestus  and  her  promise  to  the 
shepherd-arbiter  that  she  would  make  him  beloved  by 
the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  world  !  .  .  . 

'Alas!  to  think  that  such  beauty  is  not  immortal, 
and  that  years  will  alter  those  divine  outlines,  that 
admirable  hymn  of  forms,  that  poem  whose  strophes 
are  contours,  and  which  no  one  in  the  world  has  ever 
read  or  may  ever  read  save  myself;  to  be  the  sole 
depositary  of  so  splendid  a  treasure  !     If  I  knew  even 


98  KING  CANDAULES 

by  imitating  the  play  of  light  and  shadow  with  the  aid 
of  lines  and  colours,  how  to  fix  upon  wood  a  reflection 
of  that  celestial  face ;  if  marble  were  not  rebellious  to 
my  chisel,  how  well  would  I  fashion  in  the  purest  vein 
of  Paros  or  Pentelicus  an  image  of  that  charming 
body,  which  would  make  the  proud  effigies  of  the 
goddesses  fall  from  their  altars  !  And  long  after,  when 
deep  below  the  slime  of  deluges,  and  beneath  the  dust 
of  ruined  cities,  the  men  of  future  ages  should  find  a 
fragment  of  that  petrified  shadow  of  Nyssia,  they  would 
cry  :  "  Behold,  how  the  women  of  this  vanished  world 
were  formed  !  "  And  they  would  erect  a  temple  wherein 
to  enshrine  the  divine  fragment.  But  I  have  naught 
save  a  senseless  admiration  and  a  love  that  is  madness ! 
Sole  adorer  of  an  unknown  divinity,  I  possess  no  power 
to  spread  her  worship  through  the  world.' 

Thus  in  Candaules  had  the  enthusiasm  of  the  artist 
extinguished  the  jealousy  of  the  lover.  Admiration 
was  mightier  than  love.  If  in  place  of  Nyssia,  daughter 
of  the  Satrap  Megabazus,  all  imbued  with  Oriental 
ideas,  he  had  espoused  some  Greek  girl  from  Athens 
or  Corinth,  he  would  certainly  have  invited  to  his 
court  the  most  skilful  painters  and  sculptors,  and  have 
given  them  the  queen  for  their  model,  as  did  after- 
ward Alexander  his  favourite  Campaspe,  who  posed 
naked  before  Apelles.  Such  a  whim  would  have  en- 
countered no  opposition  from  a  woman  of  the  land 
where  even  the  most  chaste  made  a  boast  of  having 
contributed — some  for  the  back,  some  for  the  bosom — 


KING  CANDAULES  99 

to  the  perfection  of  a  famous  statue.  But  hardly 
would  the  bashful  Nyssia  consent  to  unveil  herself  in 
the  discreet  shadow  of  the  thalamus,  and  the  earnest 
prayers  of  the  king  really  shocked  her  rather  than  gave 
her  pleasure.  The  sentiment  of  duty  and  obedience 
alone  induced  her  to  yield  at  times  to  what  she  styled 
the  whims  of  Candaules. 

Sometimes  he  besought  her  to  allow  the  flood  of  her 
hair  to  flow  over  her  shoulders  in  a  river  of  gold  richer 
than  the  Pactolus,  to  encircle  her  brow  with  a  crown  of 
ivy  and  linden  leaves  Hke  a  bacchante  of  Mount 
Msnalus,  to  lie,  hardly  veiled  by  a  cloud  of  tissue  finer 
than  woven  wind,  upon  a  tiger-skin  with  silver  claws 
and  ruby  eyes,  or  to  stand  erect  in  a  great  shell  of 
mother-of-pearl,  with  a  dew  of  pearls  falling  from  her 
tresses  in  lieu  of  drops  of  sea-water. 

When  he  had  placed  himself  in  the  best  position  for 
observation,  he  became  absorbed  in  silent  contempla- 
tion. His  hand,  tracing  vague  contours  in  the  air, 
seemed  to  be  sketching  the  outlines  for  some  picture, 
and  he  would  have  remained  thus  for  whole  hours  if 
Nyssia,  soon  becoming  weary  of  her  role  of  model,  had 
not  reminded  him  in  chill  and  disdainful  tones  that 
such  amusements  were  unworthy  of  royal  majesty  and 
contrary  to  the  holy  laws  of  matrimony.  '  It  is  thus,' 
she  would  exclaim,  as  she  withdrew,  draped  to  her  very 
eyes,  into  the  most  mysterious  recesses  of  her  apart- 
ment, 'that  one  treats  a  mistress,  not  a  virtuous  woman 
of  noble  blood  !' 


loo  KING  CANDAULES 

These  wise  remonstrances  did  not  cure  Candaules, 
whose  passion  augmented  in  inverse  ratio  to  the  cold- 
ness shown  him  by  the  queen.  And  it  had  at  last 
brought  him  to  that  point  that  he  could  no  longer  keep 
the  secrets  of  the  nuptial  couch.  A  confidant  became 
as  necessary  to  him  as  to  the  prince  of  a  modern 
tragedy.  He  did  not  proceed,  you  may  feel  assured, 
to  fix  his  choice  upon  some  crabbed  philosopher  of 
frowning  mien,  with  a  flood  of  gray-and-white  beard 
rolling  down  over  a  mantle  in  proud  tatters;  nor  a 
warrior  who  could  talk  of  nothing  save  ballista,  cata- 
pults, and  scythed  chariots  ;  nor  a  sententious  Eupatrid 
full  of  councils  and  politic  maxims ;  but  Gyges,  whose 
reputation  for  gallantry  caused  him  to  be  regarded  as  a 
connoisseur  in  regard  to  women. 

One  evening  he  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder  in  a 
more  than  ordinarily  familiar  and  cordial  manner,  and 
after  giving  him  a  look  of  peculiar  significance,  he 
suddenly  strode  away  from  the  group  of  courtiers,  say- 
ing in  a  loud  voice : 

'  Gyges,  come  and  give  me  your  opinion  in  i  egard  to 
my  effigy,  which  the  Sicyon  sculptors  have  just  finished 
chiselling  on  the  genealogical  bas-relief  where  the  deeds 
of  my  ancestors  are  celebrated.' 

'  O  king,  your  knowledge  is  greater  than  that  of  your 
humble  subject,  and  I  know  not  how  to  express  my 
gratitude  for  the  honour  you  do  me  in  deigning  to  con- 
sult me,'  replied  Gyges,  with  a  sign  of  assent. 

Candaules  and  his  favourite  traversed  several  halls 


KING  CANDAULES  loi 

ornamented  in  the  Hellenic  style,  where  the  Corinthian 
acanthus  and  the  Ionic  volute  bloomed  or  curled  in 
the  capitals  of  the  columns,  where  the  friezes  were 
peopled  with  little  figures  in  polychromatic  plastique 
representing  processions  and  sacrifices,  and  they  finally 
arrived  at  a  remote  portion  of  the  ancient  palace  whose 
walls  were  built  with  stones  of  irregular  form,  put 
together  without  cement  in  the  cyclopean  manner. 
This  ancient  architecture  was  colossally  proportioned 
and  weirdly  grim.  The  immeasurable  genius  of  the 
elder  civilisations  of  the  Orient  was  there  legibly 
written,  and  recalled  the  granite  and  brick  debauches 
of  Egypt  and  Assyria.  Something  of  the  spirit  of  the 
ancient  architects  of  the  tower  of  Lylax  survived  in 
those  thick-set  pillars  with  their  deep-fluted  trunks, 
whose  capitals  were  formed  by  four  heads  of  bulls, 
placed  forehead  to  forehead,  and  bound  together  by 
knots  of  serpents  that  seemed  striving  to  devour  them, 
an  obscure  cosmogonic  symbol  whereof  the  meaning 
was  no  longer  intelligible,  and  had  descended  into  the 
tomb  with  the  hierophants  of  preceding  ages.  The 
gates  v*-ere  neither  of  a  square  nor  rounded  form. 
They  described  a  sort  of  ogive  much  resembling  the 
mitre  of  the  Magi,  and  by  their  fantastic  character  gave 
still  more  intensity  to  the  character  of  the  building. 

This  portion  of  the  palace  formed  a  sort  of  court  sur- 
rounded by  a  portico  whose  architecture  was  orna- 
mented with  the  genealogical  bas-relief  to  which  Can- 
daules  had  alluded. 


I02  KING  CANDAULES 

In  the  midst  thereof  sat  Heracles  upon  a  throne, 
with  the  upper  part  of  his  body  uncovered,  and  his  feet 
resting  upon  a  stool,  according  to  the  rite  for  the 
representation  of  divine  personages.  His  colossal  pro- 
portions would  otherwise  have  left  no  doubt  as  to  his 
apotheosis,  and  the  archaic  rudeness  and  hugeness  of 
the  work,  wrought  by  the  chisel  of  some  primitive 
artist,  imparted  to  his  figure  an  air  of  barbaric  majesty, 
a  savage  grandeur  more  appropriate,  perhaps,  to  the 
character  of  this  monster-slaying  hero  than  would  have 
been  the  work  of  a  sculptor  consummate  in  his  art. 

On  the  right  of  the  throne  were  Alcgeus,  son  of  the 
hero  and  of  Omphale ;  Ninus,  Belus,  Argon,  the  earlier 
kings  of  the  dynasty  of  the  Heracleidse,  then  all  the 
line  of  intermediate  kings,  terminating  with  Ardys, 
Alyattes,  Meles  or  Myrsus,  father  of  Candaules,  and 
finally  Candaules  himself. 

All  these  personages,  with  their  hair  braided  into 
little  strings,  their  beards  spirally  twisted,  their  oblique 
eyes,  angular  attitudes,  cramped  and  stiff  gestures, 
seemed  to  own  a  sort  of  factitious  life,  due  to  the  rays 
of  the  setting  sun,  and  the  ruddy  hue  which  time 
lends  to  marble  in  warm  climates.  The  inscriptions 
in  antique  characters,  graven  beside  them  after  the 
manner  of  legends,  enhanced  still  more  the  mysterious 
weirdness  of  the  long  procession  of  figures  in  strange 
barbarian  garb. 

By  a  singular  chance,  which  Gyges  could  not  help 
observing,  the  statue  of  Candaules  occupied  the  last 


KING  CANDAULES  103 

available  place  at  the  right  hand  of  Heracles;  the 
dynastic  cycle  was  closed,  and  in  order  to  find  a  place 
for  the  descendants  of  Candaules  it  would  be  absolutely 
necessary  to  build  a  new  portico  and  commence  the 
formation  of  a  new  bas-relief. 

Candaules,  whose  arm  still  rested  on  the  shoulder  of 
Gyges,  walked  slowly  round  the  portico  in  silence. 
He  seemed  to  hesitate  to  enter  into  the  subject,  and 
had  altogether  forgotten  the  pretext  under  which  he 
had  led  the  captain  of  his  guards  into  that  solitary 
place. 

'What  would  you  do,  Gyges,'  said  Candaules,  at 
last  breaking  the  silence  which  had  been  growing 
painful  to  both,  '  if  you  were  a  diver,  and  should  bring 
up  from  the  green  bosom  of  the  ocean  a  pearl  of 
incomparable  purity  and  lustre,  and  of  worth  so  vast 
as  to  exhaust  the  richest  treasures  of  the  earth  ? ' 

'  I  would  inclose  it,'  answered  Gyges,  a  little  surprised 
at  this  brusque  question,  '  in  a  cedar  box  overlaid  with 
plates  of  brass,  and  I  would  bury  it  under  a  detached 
rock  in  some  desert  place ;  and  from  time  to  time, 
when  I  should  feel  assured  that  none  could  see  me, 
I  would  go  thither  to  contemplate  my  precious  jewel 
and  admire  the  colours  of  the  sky  mingling  with  its 
nacreous  tints.' 

*  And  I,'  replied  Candaules,  his  eye  illuminated  with 
enthusiasm,  *  if  I  possessed  so  rich  a  gem,  I  would 
enshrine  it  in  my  diadem,  that  I  might  exhibit  it  freely 
to  the  eyes  of  all  men,  in  the  pure  light  of  the  sun,  that 


104  KING  CANDAULES 

I  might  adorn  myself  with  its  splendour  and  smile  with 
pride  when  I  should  hear  it  said  :  "  Never  did  king 
of  Assyria  or  Babylon,  never  did  Greek  or  Trinacrian 
tyrant  possess  so  lustrous  a  pearl  as  Candaules, 
son  of  Myrsus  and  descendant  of  Heracles,  King  of 
Sardes  and  of  Lydia !  Compared  with  Candaules, 
Midas,  who  changed  all  things  to  gold,  were  only  a 
mendicant  as  poor  as  Irus."  ' 

Gyges  listened  with  astonishment  to  this  discourse 
of  Candaules,  and  sought  to  penetrate  the  hidden  sense 
of  these  lyric  divagations.  The  king  appeared  to  be 
in  a  state  of  extraordinary  excitement :  his  eyes  sparkled 
with  enthusiasm  ;  a  feverish  rosiness  tinted  his  cheeks  ; 
his  dilated  nostrils  inhaled  the  air  with  unusual 
effort. 

'Well,  Gyges,'  continued  Candaules,  M'ithout  appear- 
ing to  notice  the  uneasiness  of  his  favourite,  '  I  am 
that  diver.  Amid  this  dark  ocean  of  humanity,  wherein 
confusedly  move  so  many  defective  or  misshapen 
beings,  so  many  forms  incomplete  or  degraded,  so 
many  types  of  bestial  ugliness,  wretched  outlines  of 
nature's  experimental  essays,  I  have  found  beauty, 
pure,  radiant,  without  spot,  without  flaw,  the  ideal 
made  real,  the  dream  accomplished,  a  form  which  no 
painter  or  sculptor  has  ever  been  able  to  translate  upon 
canvas  or  into  marble — I  have  found  Nyssia  ! ' 

'  Although  the  queen  has  the  timid  modesty  of  the 
women  of  the  Orient,  and  that  no  man  save  her 
husband  has  ever  beheld  her  features,  Fame,  hundred- 


KING  CANDAULES  105 

tongued  and  hundred-eared,  has  celebrated  her  praise 
throughout  the  world,'  answered  Gyges,  respectfully 
inclining  his  head  as  he  spoke. 

'  Mere  vague,  insignificant  rumours.  They  say  of 
her,  as  of  all  women  not  actually  ugly,  that  she  is  more 
beautiful  than  Aphrodite  or  Helen;  but  no  person 
could  form  even  the  most  remote  idea  of  such  per- 
fection. In  vain  have  I  besought  Nyssia  to  appear 
unveiled  at  some  pubHc  festival,  some  solemn  sacri- 
fice, or  to  show  herself  for  an  instant  leaning  over  the 
royal  terrace,  bestowing  upon  her  people  the  immense 
favour  of  one  look,  the  prodigality  of  one  profile  view, 
more  generous  than  the  goddesses  who  permit  their 
worshippers  to  behold  only  pale  simulacra  of  ivory 
or  alabaster.  She  would  never  consent  to  that.  Now 
there  is  one  strange  thing  which  I  blush  to  acknowledge 
even  to  you,  dear  Gyges.  Formerly  I  was  jealous ; 
I  wished  to  conceal  my  amours  from  all  eyes,  no 
shadow  was  thick  enough,  no  mystery  sufficiently 
impenetrable.  Now  I  can  no  longer  recognise  myself. 
I  have  the  feelings  neither  of  a  lover  nor  a  husband ; 
my  love  has  melted  in  adoration  like  thin  wax  in  a 
fiery  brazier.  All  petty  feelings  of  jealousy  or  posses- 
sion have  vanished.  No,  the  most  finished  work  that 
heaven  has  ever  given  to  earth,  since  the  day  that 
Prometheus  held  the  fiame  under  the  right  breast  of 
the  statue  of  clay,  cannot  thus  be  kept  hidden  in  the 
chill  shadow  of  the  gynaeceum.  Were  I  to  die,  then 
the  secret  of  this  beauty  would  for  ever  remain  shrouded 


io6  KING  CANDAULES 

beneath  the  sombre  draperies  of  widowhood !  I  feel 
myself  culpable  in  its  concealment,  as  though  I  had 
the  sun  in  my  house,  and  prevented  it  from  illuminat- 
ing the  world.  And  when  I  think  of  those  harmonious 
lines,  those  divine  contours  which  I  dare  scarcely  touch 
with  a  timid  kiss,  I  feel  my  heart  ready  to  burst ;  I 
wish  that  some  friendly  eye  could  share  my  happiness 
and,  like  a  severe  judge  to  whom  a  picture  is  shown, 
recognise  after  careful  examination  that  it  is  irreproach- 
able, and  that  the  possessor  has  not  been  deceived  by 
his  enthusiasm.  Yes,  often  do  I  feel  myself  tempted 
to  tear  off  with  rash  hand  those  odious  tissues,  but 
Nyssia,  in  her  fierce  chastity,  would  never  forgive  me. 
And  still  I  cannot  alone  endure  such  felicity.  I  must 
have  a  confidant  for  my  ecstasies,  an  echo  which  will 
answer  my  cries  of  admiration,  and  it  shall  be  none 
other  than  you.' 

Having  uttered  these  words,  Candaules  brusquely 
turned  and  disappeared  through  a  secret  passage.  Gyges, 
left  thus  alone,  could  not  avoid  noticing  the  pecuhar 
concourse  of  events  which  seemed  to  place  him  always 
in  Nyssia's  path.  A  chance  had  enabled  him  to  behold 
her  beauty,  though  walled  up  from  all  other  eyes. 
Among  many  princes  and  satraps  she  had  chosen  to 
espouse  Candaules,  the  very  king  he  served ;  and 
through  some  strange  caprice,  which  he  could  only 
regard  as  fateful,  this  king  had  just  made  him,  Gyges, 
his  confidant  in  regard  to  the  mysterious  creature 
whom  none  else  had  approached,  and  absolutely  sought 


KING  CANDAULES  107 

to  complete  the  work  of  Boreas  on  the  plain  of  Bactria  ! 
Was  not  the  hand  of  the  gods  visible  in  all  these 
circumstances?  That  spectre  of  beauty,  whose  veil 
seemed  to  be  lifted  slowly,  a  little  at  a  time,  as  though 
to  enkindle  a  flame  within  him,  was  it  not  leading  him, 
without  his  having  suspected  it,  toward  the  accomplish- 
ment of  some  mighty  destiny  ?  Such  were  the  questions 
which  Gyges  asked  himself,  but  being  unable  to  pene- 
trate the  obscurity  of  the  future,  he  resolved  to  await 
the  course  of  events,  and  left  the  Court  of  Images, 
where  the  twilight  darkness  was  commencing  to  pile 
itself  up  in  all  the  angles,  and  to  render  the  effigies  of 
the  ancestors  of  Candaules  yet  more  and  more  weirdly 
menacing. 

Was  it  a  mere  efibrt  of  light,  or  was  it  rather  an 
illusion  produced  by  that  vague  uneasiness  with  which 
the  boldest  hearts  are  filled  by  the  approach  of  night 
amid  ancient  monuments  ?  As  he  stepped  across  the 
threshold  Gyges  fancied  that  he  heard  deep  groans 
issue  from  the  stone  lips  of  the  bas-reliefs,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  that  Heracles  was  making  enormous 
efforts  to  loosen  his  granite  club. 


CHAPTER  III 

On  the  following  day  Candaules  again  took  Gyges 
aside  and  continued  the  conversation  begun  under 
the  portico  of  the  Heracleidae.     Having  freed  himself 

I 


io8  KING  CANDAULES 

from  the  embarrassment  of  broaching  the  subject,  he 
freely  unbosomed  himself  to  his  confidant;  and  had 
Nyssia  been  able  to  overhear  him  she  might  perhaps 
have  been  willing  to  pardon  his  conjugal  indiscretions 
for  the  sake  of  his  passionate  eulogies  of  her  charms. 

Gyges  listened  to  all  these  bursts  of  praise  with  the 
slightly  constrained  air  of  one  who  is  yet  uncertain 
whether  his  interlocutor  is  not  feigning  an  enthusiasm 
more  ardent  than  he  actually  feels,  in  order  to  provoke 
a  confidence  naturally  cautious  to  utter  itself.  Can- 
daules  at  last  said  to  him  in  a  tone  of  disappointment : 
'  I  see,  Gyges,  that  you  do  not  believe  me.  You  think 
I  am  boasting,  or  have  allowed  myself  to  be  fascinated 
like  some  clumsy  labourer  by  a  robust  country  girl  on 
whose  cheeks  Hygeia  has  crushed  the  gross  hues  of 
health.  No,  by  all  the  gods  !  I  have  collected  within 
my  home,  like  a  living  bouquet,  the  fairest  flowers  of 
Asia  and  of  Greece.  I  know  all  that  the  art  of  sculptors 
and  painters  has  produced  since  the  time  of  Daedalus, 
whose  statues  walked  and  spoke.  Linus,  Orpheus, 
Homer,  have  taught  me  harmony  and  rhythm.  I  do 
not  look  about  me  with  Love's  bandage  blindfolding 
my  eyes.  I  judge  of  all  things  coolly.  The  passions 
of  youth  never  influence  my  admiration,  and  when  I 
am  as  withered,  decrepit,  wrinkled,  as  Tithonus  in  his 
swaddling  bands,  my  opinion  will  be  still  the  same. 
But  I  forgive  your  incredulity  and  want  of  sympathy. 
In  order  to  understand  me  fully,  it  is  necessary  that 
you  should  see  Nyssia  in  the  radiant  brilliancy  of  her 


KING  CANDAULES  109 

shining  whiteness,  free  from  jealous  drapery,  even  as 
Nature  with  her  own  hands  moulded  her  in  a  lost 
moment  of  inspiration  which  never  can  return.  This 
evening  I  will  hide  you  in  a  corner  of  the  bridal 
chamber  .  .  ,  you  shall  see  her  ! ' 

'  Sire,  what  do  you  ask  of  me  ? '  returned  the  young 
warrior  with  respectful  firmness.  '  How  shall  I,  from 
the  depths  of  my  dust,  from  the  abyss  of  my  nothing- 
ness, dare  to  raise  my  eyes  to  this  sun  of  perfections, 
at  the  risk  of  remaining  blind  for  the  rest  of  my  life,  or 
being  able  to  see  naught  but  a  dazzling  spectre  in  the 
midst  of  darkness  ?  Have  pity  on  your  humble  slave, 
and  do  not  compel  him  to  an  action  so  contrary  to  the 
maxims  of  virtue.  No  man  should  look  upon  what 
does  not  belong  to  him.  We  know  that  the  immortals 
always  punish  those  who  through  imprudence  or 
audacity  surprise  them  in  their  divine  nudity.  Nyssia 
is  the  loveliest  of  all  women ;  you  are  the  happiest  of 
lovers  and  husbands.  Heracles,  your  ancestor,  never 
found  in  the  course  of  his  many  conquests  aught  to 
compare  with  your  queen.  If  you,  the  prince  of  whom 
even  the  most  skilful  artists  seek  judgment  and  counsel 
— if  you  find  her  incomparable,  of  what  consequence 
can  the  opinion  of  an  obscure  soldier  like  me  be  to 
you?  Abandon,  therefore,  this  fantasy,  which  I  pre- 
sume to  say  is  unworthy  of  your  royal  majesty,  and  of 
which  you  would  repent  so  soon  as  it  had  been 
satisfied.' 

'Listen,   Gyges,'   returned  Candaules ;    'I   perceive 


no  KING  CANDAULES 

that  you  suspect  me ;  you  think  that  I  seek  to  put  you 
to  some  proof,  but  by  the  ashes  of  that  funeral  pyre 
whence  my  ancestor  arose  a  god,  I  swear  to  you  that  I 
speak  frankly  and  without  any  after-purpose.' 

'O  Candaules,  I  doubt  not  of  your  good  faith;  your 
passion  is  sincere,  but  perchance,  after  I  should  have 
obeyed  you,  you  would  conceive  a  deep  aversion  to 
me,  and  learn  to  hats  me  for  not  having  more  firmly 
resisted  your  will.  You  would  seek  to  take  back  from 
these  eyes,  indiscreet  through  compulsion,  the  image 
which  you  allowed  them  to  glance  upon  in  a  moment 
of  delirium ;  and  who  knows  but  that  you  would  con- 
demn them  to  the  eternal  night  of  the  tomb  to  punish 
them  for  remaining  open  at  a  moment  when  they  ought 
to  have  been  closed.' 

*  Fear  nothing  ;  I  pledge  my  royal  word  that  no  evil 
shall  befall  you.' 

'  Pardon  your  slave  if  he  still  dares  to  offer  some 
objection,  even  after  such  a  promise.  Have  you  re- 
flected that  what  you  propose  to  me  is  a  violation  of 
the  sanctity  of  marriage,  a  species  of  visual  adultery  ? 
A  woman  often  lays  aside  her  modesty  with  her  gar- 
ments ;  and  once  violated  by  a  look,  without  having 
actually  ceased  to  be  virtuous,  she  might  deem  that  she 
had  lost  her  flower  of  purity.  You  promise,  indeed,  to 
feel  no  resentment  against  me ;  but  who  can  ensure  me 
against  the  wrath  of  Nyssia,  she  who  is  so  reserved  and 
chaste,  so  apprehensive,  fierce,  and  virginal  in  her 
modesty  that  she  might  be  deemed  still  ignorant  of  the 


KING  CANDAULES  iii 

laws  of  Hymen  ?  Should  she  ever  leain  of  the  sacrilege 
which  I  am  about  to  render  myself  guilty  of  in  deferring 
to  my  master's  wishes,  what  punishment  would  she  con- 
demn me  to  suffer  in  expiation  of  such  a  crime?  Who 
could  place  me  beyond  the  reach  of  her  avenging  anger  ? ' 

'  I  did  not  know  you  were  so  wise  and  prudent,'  said 
Candaules,  with  a  slightly  ironical  smile;  'but  such 
dangers  are  all  imaginary,  and  I  shall  hide  you  in  such 
a  way  that  Nyssia  will  never  know  she  has  been  seen 
by  any  one  except  her  royal  husband.' 

Being  unable  to  offer  any  further  defence,  Gyges 
made  a  sign  of  assent  in  token  of  complete  submission 
to  the  king's  will.  He  had  made  all  the  resistance  in 
his  power,  and  thenceforward  his  conscience  could  feel 
at  ease  in  regard  to  whatever  might  happen ;  besides, 
by  any  further  opposition  to  the  will  of  Candaules,  he 
would  have  feared  to  oppose  destiny  itself,  which 
seemed  striving  to  bring  him  still  nearer  to  Nyssia  for 
some  grim  ulterior  purpose  into  which  it  was  not  given 
to  him  to  see  further. 

Without  actually  being  able  to  foresee  any  result,  he 
beheld  a  thousand  vague  and  shadowy  images  passing 
before  his  eyes.  That  subterranean  love,  so  long 
crouched  at  the  foot  of  his  soul's  stairway,  had  climbed 
a  few  steps  higher,  guided  by  some  fitful  glimmer  of 
hope.  The  weight  of  the  impossible  no  longer  pressed 
so  heavily  upon  his  breast,  now  that  he  believed  him- 
self aided  by  the  gods.  In  truth,  who  would  have 
dreamed  that  the  much-boasted  charms  of  the  daughter 


ri2  KING  CANDAULES 

of  Megabazus  would  ere  long  cease  to  own  any  mystery 
for  Gyges  ? 

*  Come,  Gyges,'  said  Candaules,  taking  him  by  the 
hand,  'let  us  make  profit  of  the  time.  Nyssia  is  walk- 
ing in  the  garden  with  her  women  ;  let  us  look  at  the 
place,  and  plan  our  stratagems  for  this  evening.' 

The  king  took  his  confidant  by  the  hand  and  led 
him  along  the  winding  ways  which  conducted  to  the 
nuptial  apartment.  The  doors  of  the  sleeping-room 
were  made  of  cedar  planks  so  perfectly  put  together 
that  it  was  impossible  to  discover  the  joints.  By  dint 
of  rubbing  them  with  wool  steeped  in  oil,  the  slaves 
had  rendered  the  wood  as  polished  as  marble.  The 
brazen  nails,  with  heads  cut  in  facets,  which  studded 
them,  haS  all  the  brilliancy  of  the  purest  gold.  A 
complicated  system  of  straps  and  metallic  rings,  whereof 
Candaules  and  his  wife  alone  knew  the  combination, 
served  to  secure  them,  for  in  those  heroic  ages  the 
locksmith's  art  was  yet  in  its  infancy. 

Candaules  unloosed  the  knots,  made  the  rings  slide 
back  upon  the  thongs,  raised  with  a  handle  which  fitted 
into  a  mortise  the  bar  that  fastened  the  door  from 
within,  and  bidding  Gyges  place  himself  against  the 
wall,  turned  back  one  of  the  folding-doors  upon  him 
in  such  a  way  as  to  hide  him  completely ;  yet  the  door 
did  not  fit  so  perfectly  to  its  frame  of  oaken  beams,  all 
carefully  polished  and  put  up  according  to  line  by  a 
skilful  workman,  that  the  young  warrior  could  not 
obtain  a  distinct  view  of  the  chamber  interior  through 


KING  CANDAULES  113 

the  interstices  contrived  to  give  room  for  the  free  play 
of  the  hinges. 

Facing  the  entrance,  the  royal  bed  stood  upon  an 
estrade  of  several  steps,  covered  with  purple  drapery. 
Columns  of  chased  silver  supported  the  entablature, 
all  ornamented  with  foliage  wrought  in  relief,  amid 
which  Loves  were  sporting  with  dolphins,  and  heavy 
curtains  embroidered  with  gold  surrounded  it  like  the 
folds  of  a  tent. 

Upon  the  altar  of  the  household  gods  were  placed 
vases  of  precious  metal,  paterae  enamelled  with  flowers, 
double- handled  cups,  and  all  things  needful  for 
libations. 

Along  the  walls,  which  were  faced  with  planks  of 
cedar-wood,  marvellously  worked,  at  regular"  intervals 
stood  tall  statues  of  black  basalt  in  the  constrained 
attitudes  of  Egyptian  art,  each  sustaining  in  its  hand 
a  bronze  torch  into  which  a  splinter  of  resinous  wood 
had  been  fitted. 

An  onyx  lamp,  suspended  by  a  chain  of  silver,  hung 
from  that  beam  of  the  ceiling  which  is  called  the  black 
beam,  because  more  exposed  than  the  others  to  the 
embrowning  smoke.  Every  evening  a  slave  carefully 
filled  this  lamp  with  odoriferous  oil. 

Near  the  head  of  the  bed,  on  a  little  column,  hung  a 
trophy  of  arms,  consisting  of  a  visored  helmet,  a  two- 
fold buckler  made  of  four  bulls'  hides  and  covered 
with  plates  of  brass  and  tin,  a  two-edged  sword,  and 
several  ashen  javelins  with  brazen  heads. 


114  KING  CANDAULES 

The  tunics  and  mantles  of  Candaules  were  hung 
upon  wooden  pegs.  They  comprised  garments  both 
simple  and  double;  that  is,  capable  of  going  twice 
around  the  body.  A  mantle  of  thrice-dyed  purple, 
ornamented  with  embroidery  representing  a  hunting 
scene  wherein  Laconian  hounds  were  pursuing  and 
tearing  deer,  and  a  tunic  whereof  the  material,  fine 
and  delicate  as  the  skin  which  envelops  an  onion 
had  all  the  sheen  of  woven  sunbeams,  were  especially 
noticeable.  Opposite  to  the  trophy  stood  an  arm- 
chair inlaid  with  silver  and  ivory  upon  which  Nyssia 
hung  her  garments.  Its  seat  was  covered  with  a 
leopard  skin  more  eye-spotted  than  the  body  of  Argus, 
and  its  foot-support  was  richly  adorned  with  open- 
work carving. 

'I  am  generally  the  first  to  retire,'  observed  Can- 
daules to  Gyges,  'and  I  always  leave  this  door  open 
as  it  is  now.  Nyssia,  who  has  invariably  some 
tapestry  flower  to  finish,  or  some  order  to  give  her 
women,  usually  delays  a  little  in  joining  me ;  but  at 
last  she  comes,  and  slowly  takes  off,  one  by  one,  as 
though  the  effort  cost  her  dearly,  and  lays  upon  that 
ivory  chair,  all  those  draperies  and  tunics  which  by 
day  envelop  her  like  mummy  bandages.  From  your 
hiding-place  you  will  be  able  to  follow  all  her  graceful 
movements,  admire  her  unrivalled  charms,  and  judge 
for  yourself  whether  Candaules  be  a  young  fool  prone 
to  vain  boasting,  or  whether  he  does  not  really  possess 
the  richest  pearl  of  beauty  that  ever  adorned  a  diadem.' 


KING  CANDAULES  115 

'O  King,  I  can  well  believe  your  words  without 
such  a  proof  as  this,'  replied  Gyges,  stepping  forth 
from  his  hiding-place. 

'When  she  has  laid  aside  her  garments,' continued 
Candaules,  without  heeding  the  exclamation  of  his 
confidant,  '  she  will  come  to  lie  down  with  me.  You 
must  take  advantage  of  the  moment  to  steal  away,  for 
in  passing  from  the  chair  to  the  bed  she  turns  her 
back  to  the  door.  Step  lightly  as  though  you  were 
treading  upon  ears  of  ripe  wheat ;  take  heed  that  no 
grain  of  sand  squeaks  under  your  sandals ;  hold  your 
breath,  and  retire  as  stealthily  as  possible.  The 
vestibule  is  all  in  darkness,  and  the  feeble  rays  of 
the  only  lamp  which  remains  burning  do  not  penetrate 
beyond  the  threshold  of  the  chamber.  It  is,  therefore, 
certain  that  Nyssia  cannot  possibly  see  you  ;  and  to- 
morrow there  will  be  some  one  in  the  world  who  can 
comprehend  my  ecstasies,  and  will  feel  no  longer 
astonished  at  my  bursts  of  admiration.  But  see,  the 
day  is  almost  spent;  the  Sun  will  soon  water  his 
steeds  in  the  Hesperian  waves  at  the  further  end  of 
the  world,  and  beyond  the  Pillars  erected  by  my 
ancestors.  Return  to  your  hiding-place,  Gyges,  and 
though  the  hours  of  waiting  may  seem  long,  I  can 
swear  by  Eros  of  the  Golden  Arrows  that  you  will  not 
regret  having  waited.' 

After  this  assurance  Candaules  left  Gyges  again 
hidden  behind  the  door.  The  compulsory  quiet 
which    the    king's     young     confidant    found    himself 


it6  king  CANDAULES 

obliged  to  maintain  left  him  ample  leisure  for  thought. 
His  situation  was  certainly  a  most  extraordinary  one. 
He  had  loved  Nyssia  as  one  loves  a  star.  Convinced 
of  the  hopelessness  of  the  undertaking,  he  had  made 
no  effort  to  approach  her.  And,  nevertheless,  by  a 
succession  of  extraordinary  events  he  was  about  to 
obtain  a  knowledge  of  treasures  reserved  for  lovers 
and  husbands  only.  Not  a  word,  not  a  glance  had 
been  exchanged  between  himself  and  Nyssia,  who 
probably  ignored  the  very  existence  of  the  one  being 
for  whom  her  beauty  would  so  soon  cease  to  be  a 
mystery.  Unknown  to  her  whose  modesty  would  have 
naught  to  sacrifice  for  you,  how  strange  a  situation  ! 
To  love  a  woman  in  secret  and  find  oneself  led  by 
her  husband  to  the  threshold  of  the  nuptial  chamber, 
to  have  for  guide  to  that  treasure  the  very  dragon 
who  should  defend  all  approach  to  it,  was  there  not 
in  all  this  ample  food  for  astonishment  and  wonder  at 
the  combination  of  events  wrought  by  destiny  ? 

In  the  midst  of  these  reflections,  he  suddenly  heard 
the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  pavement.  It  was  only 
the  slaves  coming  to  replenish  the  oil  in  the  lamp, 
throw  fresh  perfumes  upon  the  coals  of  the  kamklins, 
and  arrange  the  purple  and  saffron-tinted  sheepskins 
which  formed  the  royal  bed. 

The  hour  approached,  and  Gyges  felt  his  heart  beat 
faster,  and  the  pulsation  of  his  arteries  quicken.  He 
even  felt  a  strong  impulse  to  steal  away  before  the 
arrival  of  the  queen,  and,  after  averring  subsequently 


KING  CANDAULES  117 

to  Candaules  that  he  had  remained,  abandon  himself 
confidently  to   the    most   extravagant  eulogiums.     He 
felt  a  strong  repugnance  (for,  despite  his  somewhat 
free  life,  Gyges  was  not  without  delicacy)  to  take  by 
stealth   a   favour   for   the   free  granting  of  which  he 
would  gladly  have  paid  with  his  life.     The  husband's 
complicity  rendered  this  theft  more  odious  in  a  certain 
sense,  and   he  would  have  preferred  to  owe  to  any 
other   circumstance   the   happiness    of  beholding   the 
marvel  of  Asia  in  her  nocturnal  toilet.     Perhaps,  in- 
deed, the  approach  of  danger,  let  us  acknowledge  as 
veracious    historians,    had    no    little   to    do   with   his 
virtuous  scruples.     Undoubtedly  Gyges  did  not  lack 
courage.     Mounted  upon  his  war-chariot,  with  quiver 
rattling  upon  his  shoulder,  and  bow  in  hand,  he  would 
have  defied  the  most  valiant  warriors ;  in  the  chase  he 
would  have  attacked  without  fear  the  Calydon  boar  or 
the  Nemean  lion  ;    but — explain  the  enigma  as   you 
will — he  trembled  at  the  idea  of  looking  at  a  beautiful 
woman  through  a  chink  in  a  door.     No  one  possesses 
every  kind  of  courage.     He  felt  likewise  that  he  could 
not   behold   Nyssia   with    impunity.     It   would   be   a 
decisive  epoch  in  his  life.     Through  having  obtained 
but  a  momentary  glimpse  of  her  he  had  lost  all  peace 
of  mind ;  what,  then,  would  be  the  result  of  that  which 
was  about  to  take  place?     Could  life  itself  continue 
for   him   when    to   that   divine   head  which   fired   his 
dreams  should  be  added  a  charming  body  formed  for 
the  kisses  of  the  immortals  ?     What  would  become  of 


ii8  KING  CANDAULES 

him  should  he  find  himself  unable  thereafter  to  con- 
tain his  passion  in  darkness  and  silence  as  he  had 
done  till  that  time?  Would  he  exhibit  to  the  court 
of  Lydia  the  ridiculous  spectacle  of  an  insane  love,  or 
would  he  strive  by  some  extravagant  action  to  bring 
down  upon  himself  the  disdainful  pity  of  the  queen  ? 
Such  a  result  was  strongly  probable,  since  the  reason 
of  Candaules  himself,  the  legitimate  possessor  of 
Nyssia,  had  been  unable  to  resist  the  vertigo  caused 
by  that  superhuman  beauty — he,  the  thoughtless 
young  king  who  till  then  had  laughed  at  love,  and 
preferred  pictures  and  statues  before  all  things.  These 
arguments  were  very  rational  but  wholly  useless,  for 
at  the  same  moment  Candaules  entered  the  chamber, 
and  exclaimed  in  a  low  but  distinct  voice  as  he  passed 
the  door  : 

'Patience,  my  poor  Gyges,  Nyssia  will  soon  come.' 
When  he  saw  that  he  could  no  longer  retreat,  Gyges, 
who  was  but  a  young  man  after  all,  forgot  every  other 
consideration,  and  no  longer  thought  of  aught  save 
the  happiness  of  feasting  his  eyes  upon  the  charming 
spectacle  which  Candaules  was  about  to  offer  him. 
One  cannot  demand  from  a  captain  of  twenty-five  the 
austerity  of  a  hoary  philosopher. 

At  last  a  low  whispering  of  raiment  sweeping  and 
trailing  over  marble,  distinctly  audible  in  the  deep 
silence  of  the  night,  announced  the  approach  of  the 
queen.  In  effect  it  was  she.  With  a  step  as  cadenced 
and  rhythmic  as  an  ode,  she  crossed  the  threshold  of 


KING  CANDAULES  119 

the  thalamus,  and  the  wind  of  her  veil  with  its  floating 
folds  almost  touched  the  burning  cheek  of  Gyges,  who 
felt  wellnigh  on  the  point  of  fainting,  and  found  him- 
self compelled  to  seek  the  support  of  the  wall;  but 
soon  recovering  from  the  violence  of  his  emotions,  he 
approached  the  chink  of  the  door,  and  took  the  most 
favourable  position  for  enabling  him  to  lose  nothing  of 
the  scene  whereof  he  was  about  to  be  an  invisible 
witness. 

Nyssia  advanced  to  the  ivory  chair  and  commenced 
to  detach  the  pins,  terminated  by  hollow  balls  of  gold, 
which  fastened  her  veil  upon  her  head;  and  Gyges 
from  the  depths  of  the  shadow-filled  angle  where  he 
stood  concealed  could  examine  at  his  ease  the  proud 
and  charming  face  of  which  he  had  before  obtained 
only  a  hurried  glimpse;  that  rounded  neck,  at  once 
delicate  and  powerful,  whereon  Aphrodite  had  traced 
with  the  nail  of  her  little  finger  those  three  faint  lines 
which  are  still  at  this  very  day  known  as  the  '  necklace 
of  Venus  ' ;  that  white  nape  on  whose  alabaster  surface 
little  wild  rebellious  curls  were  disporting  and  en- 
twining themselves ;  those  silver  shoulders,  half  rising 
from  the  opening  of  the  chlamys,  like  the  moon's  disc 
emerging  from  an  opaque  cloud.  Candaules,  half 
reclining  upon  his  cushions,  gazed  with  fondness  upon 
his  wife,  and  thought  to  himself:  'Now  Gyges,  who  is 
so  cold,  so  difficult  to  please,  and  so  sceptical,  must  be 
already  half  convinced.' 

Opening  a  little  coffer  which  stood  on  a  table  sup- 


I20  KING  CANDAULES 

ported  by  one  leg  terminating  in  carven  lion's  paws, 
the  queen  freed  her  beautiful  arms  from  the  weight  of 
the  bracelets  and  jewellery  wherewith  they  had  been 
overburdened  during  the  day — arms  whose  form  and 
whiteness  might  well  have  enabled  them  to  compare 
with  those  of  Hera,  sister  and  wife  of  Zeus,  the  lord  of 
Olympus.  Precious  as  were  her  jewels,  they  were 
assuredly  not  worth  the  spots  which  they  concealed, 
and  had  Nyssia  been  a  coquette,  one  might  have  well 
supposed  that  she  only  donned  them  in  order  that  she 
should  be  entreated  to  take  them  off.  The  rings  and 
chased  work  had  left  upon  her  skin,  fine  and  tender  as 
the  interior  pulp  of  a  lily,  light  rosy  imprints,  which 
she  soon  dissipated  by  rubbing  them  with  her  little 
taper-fingered  hand,  all  rounded  and  slender  at  its 
extremities. 

Then  with  the  movement  of  a  dove  trembling  in  the 
snow  of  its  feathers,  she  shook  her  hair,  which  being 
no  longer  held  by  the  golden  pins,  rolled  down  in 
languid  spirals  like  hyacinth  flowers  over  her  back  and 
bosom.  Thus  she  remained  for  a  few  moments  ere 
reassembling  the  scattered  curls  and  finally  re-uniting 
them  into  one  mass.  It  was  marvellous  to  watch  the 
blond  ringlets  streaming  like  jets  of  liquid  gold  be- 
tween the  silver  of  her  fingers ;  and  her  arms  undulat- 
ing like  swans'  necks  as  they  were  arched  above  her 
head  in  the  act  of  twisting  and  confining  the  natural 
bullion.  If  you  have  ever  by  chance  examined  one  of 
those  beautiful  Etruscan  vases  with  red  figures  on  a 


KING  CANDAULES  121 

black  ground,  and  decorated  with  one  of  those  sub- 
jects which  are  designated  under  the  title  of  'Greek 
Toilette,'  then  you  will  have  some  idea  of  the  grace  of 
Nyssia  in  that  attitude  which,  from  the  age  of  antiquity 
to  our  own  era,  has  furnished  such  a  multitude  of 
happy  designs  for  painters  and  statuaries. 

Having  thus  arranged  her  coiffure,  she  seated  her- 
self upon  the  edge  of  the  ivory  footstool  and  commenced 
to  untie  the  little  bands  which  fastened  her  buskins. 
We  moderns,  owing  to  our  horrible  system  of  footgear, 
which  is  hardly  less  absurd  than  the  Chinese  shoe,  no 
longer  know  what  a  foot  is.  That  of  Nyssia  was  of  a 
perfection  rare  even  in  Greece  and  antique  Asia.  The 
great  toe,  a  little  apart  like  the  thumb  of  a  bird,  the 
other  toes,  slightly  long,  and  all  ranged  in  charming 
symmetry,  the  nails  well  shaped  and  brilliant  as  agates, 
the  ankles  well  rounded  and  supple,  the  heel  slightly 
tinted  with  a  rosy  hue — nothing  was  wanting  to  the 
perfection  of  the  little  member.  The  leg  attached  to 
this  foot,  and  which  gleamed  like  polished  marble  under 
the  lamp-light,  was  irreproachable  in  the  purity  of  its 
outlines  and  the  grace  of  its  curves. 

Gyges,  lost  in  contemplation,  though  all  the  while 
fully  comprehending  the  madness  of  Candaules,  said 
to  himself  that  had  the  gods  bestowed  such  a  treasure 
upon  him  he  would  have  known  how  to  keep  it  to 
himself. 

'  Well,  Nyssia,  are  you  not  coming  to  sleep  with  me  ? ' 
exclaimed  Candaules,  seeing  that  the  queen  was  not 


122  KING  CANDAULES 

hurrying  herself  in  the  least,  and  feeling  desirous  to 
abridge  the  watch  of  Gyges. 

'Yes,  my  dear  lord,  I  will  soon  be  ready,'  answered 
Nyssia. 

And  she  detached  the  cameo  which  fastened  the 
peplum  upon  her  shoulder.  There  remained  only  the 
tunic  to  let  fall.  Gyges,  behind  the  door,  felt  his  veins 
hiss  through  his  temples;  his  heart  beat  so  violently 
that  he  feared  it  must  make  itself  heard  in  the  chamber, 
and  to  repress  its  fierce  pulsations  he  pressed  his  hand 
upon  his  bosom ;  and  when  Nyssia,  with  a  movement 
of  careless  grace,  unfastened  the  girdle  of  her  tunic,  he 
thought  his  knees  would  give  way  beneath  him. 

Nyssia — was  it  an  instinctive  presentiment,  or  was 
her  skin,  virginally  pure  from  profane  looks,  so  delicately 
magnetic  in  its  susceptibility  that  it  could  feel  the  rays 
of  a  passionate  eye  though  that  eye  was  invisible  ? — 
Nyssia  hesitated  to  strip  herself  of  that  tunic,  the  last 
rampart  of  her  modesty.  Twice  or  thrice  her  shoulders, 
her  bosom,  and  bare  arms  shuddered  with  a  nervous 
chill,  as  though  they  had  been  suddenly  grazed  by  the 
wings  of  a  nocturnal  butterfly,  or  as  though  an  insolent 
lip  had  dared  to  touch  them  in  the  darkness. 

At  last,  seeming  to  nerve  herself  for  a  sudden  resolve 
she  doffed  the  tunic  in  its  turn ;  and  the  white  poem  of 
her  divine  body  suddenly  appeared  in  all  its  splendour, 
like  the  statue  of  a  goddess  unveiled  on  the  day  of  a 
temple's  inauguration.  Shuddering  with  pleasure  the 
light  glided  and  gloated  over  those  exquisite  forms,  and 


KING  CANDAULES  123 

covered  them  with  timid  kisses,  profiting  by  an  occa- 
sion, alas,  rare  indeed!  The  rays  scattered  through 
the  chamber,  disdaining  to  illuminate  golden  arms, 
jewelled  clasps,  or  brazen  tripods,  all  concentrated 
themselves  upon  Nyssia,  and  left  all  other  objects  in 
obscurity.  Were  we  Greeks  of  the  age  of  Pericles  we 
might  at  our  ease  eulogise  those  beautiful  serpentine 
lines,  those  polished  flanks,  those  elegant  curves,  those 
breasts  which  might  have  served  as  moulds  for  the  cup 
of  Hebe  ;  but  modern  prudery  forbids  such  descrip- 
tions, for  the  pen  cannot  find  pardon  for  what  is  per- 
mitted to  the  chisel ;  and  besides,  there  are  some 
things  which  can  be  written  of  only  in  marble. 

Candaules  smiled  in  proud  satisfaction.  With  a 
rapid  step,  as  though  ashamed  of  being  so  beautiful, 
for  she  was  only  the  daughter  of  a  man  and  a  woman, 
Nyssia  approached  the  bed,  her  arms  folded  upon  her 
bosom ;  but  with  a  sudden  movement  she  turned 
round  ere  taking  her  place  upon  the  couch  beside  her 
royal  spouse,  and  beheld  through  the  aperture  of  the 
door  a  gleaming  eye  flaming  Hke  the  carbuncle  of 
Oriental  legend ;  for  if  it  were  false  that  she  had  a 
double  pupil,  and  that  she  possessed  the  stone  which 
is  found  in  the  heads  of  dragons,  it  was  at  least  true 
that  her  green  glance  penetrated  darkness  like  the 
glaucous  eye  of  the  cat  and  tiger. 

A  cry,  like  that  of  a  fawn  who  receives  an  arrow  in 
her  flank  while  tranquilly  dreaming  among  the  leafy 
shadows,  was  on  the  point  of  bursting  from  her  lips, 

K 


124  KING  CANDAULES 

yet  she  found  strength  to  control  herself,  and  lay  down 
beside  Candaules,  cold  as  a  serpent,  with  the  violets  of 
death  upon  her  cheeks  and  lips.  Not  a  muscle  of  her 
limbs  quivered,  not  a  fibre  of  her  body  palpitated,  and 
soon  her  slow,  regular  breathing  seemed  to  indicate 
that  Morpheus  had  distilled  his  poppy  juice  upon  her 
eyelids. 

She  had  divined  and  comprehended  all. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Gyges,  trembling  and  distracted  with  passion,  had 
retired,  following  exactly  the  instructions  of  Candaules  ; 
and  if  Nyssia,  through  some  unfortunate  chance,  had 
not  turned  her  head  ere  taking  her  place  upon  the 
couch,  and  perceived  him  in  the  act  of  taking  flight, 
doubtless  she  would  have  remained  for  ever  unconscious 
of  the  outrage  done  to  her  charms  by  a  husband  more 
passionate  than  scrupulous. 

Accustomed  to  the  winding  corridors  of  the  palace, 
the  young  warrior  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  his  way 
out.  He  passed  through  the  city  at  a  reckless  pace 
like  a  madman  escaped  from  Anticyra,  and  by  making 
himself  known  to  the  sentinels  who  guarded  the  ram- 
parts, he  had  the  gates  opened  for  him  and  gained  the 
fields  beyond.  His  brain  burned,  his  cheeks  flamed 
as  with  tiie  fires  of  fever;  his  breath  came  hotly  panting 
through   his   lips ;  he   flung   himself  down    upon    the 


KING  CANDAULES  125 

meadow-sod  humid  with  the  tears  of  the  night;  and 
at  last  hearing  in  the  darkness,  through  the  thick  grass 
and  water-plants,  the  silvery  respiration  of  a  Naiad,  he 
dragged  himself  to  the  spring,  plunged  his  hands  and 
arms  into  the  crystal  flood,  bathed  his  face,  and  drank 
several  mouthfuls  of  the  water  in  the  hope  to  cool  the 
ardour  which  was  devouring  him.  Any  one  who  could 
have  seen  him  thus  hopelessly  bending  over  the  spring 
in  the  feeble  starlight  would  have  taken  him  for  Nar- 
cissus pursuing  his  own  shadow;  but  it  was  not  of 
himself  assuredly  that  Gyges  was  enamoured. 

The  rapid  apparition  of  Nyssia  had  dazzled  his 
eyes  like  the  keen  zigzag  of  a  lightning  flash.  He 
beheld  her  floating  before  him  in  a  luminous  whirl- 
wind, and  felt  that  never  through  all  his  life  could  he 
banish  that  image  from  his  vision.  His  love  had 
grown  to  vastness  ;  its  flower  had  suddenly  burst,  like 
those  plants  which  open  their  blossoms  with  a  clap  of 
thunder.  To  master  his  passion  were  henceforth  a 
thing  impossible :  as  well  counsel  the  empurpled  waves 
which  Poseidon  lifts  with  his  trident  to  lie  tranquilly 
in  their  bed  of  sand  and  cease  to  foam  upon  the  rocks 
of  the  shore.  Gyges  was  no  longer  master  of  himself, 
and  he  felt  a  miserable  despair,  as  of  a  man  riding  in 
a  chariot,  who  finds  his  terrified  and  uncontrollable 
horses  rushing  with  all  the  speed  of  a  furious  gallop 
toward  some  rock-bristling  precipice.  A  hundred 
thousand  projects,  each  wilder  than  the  last,  whirled 
confusedly  through  his  brain.     He  blasphemed  Destiny, 


126  KING  CANDAULES 

he  cursed  his  mother  for  having  given  him  life,  and  the 
gods  that  they  had  not  caused  him  to  be  born  to  a 
throne,  for  then  he  might  have  been  able  to  espouse 
the  daughter  of  the  satraj). 

A  frightful  agony  gnawed  at  his  heart ;  he  was  jealous 
of  the  king.  From  the  moment  of  the  tunic's  fall  at 
the  feet  of  Nyssia,  like  the  flight  of  a  white  dove 
alighting  upon  a  meadow,  it  had  seemed  to  him  that 
she  belonged  to  him ;  he  deemed  himself  despoiled  of 
his  wealth  by  Candaules.  In  all  his  amorous  reveries 
he  had  never  until  then  thought  of  the  husband  ;  he 
had  thought  of  the  queen  only  as  of  a  pure  abstrac- 
tion, without  representing  to  himself  in  fancy  all  those 
intimate  details  of  conjugal  familiarity,  so  poignant,  so 
bitter  for  those  who  love  a  woman  in  the  power  of 
another.  Now  he  had  beheld  Nyssia's  blond  head 
bending  like  a  blossom  beside  the  dark  head  of  Can- 
daules. The  very  thought  of  it  had  inflamed  his  anger 
to  the  highest  degree,  although  a  moment's  reflection 
should  have  convinced  him  that  things  could  not  have 
come  to  pass  otherwise,  and  he  felt  growing  within 
him  a  most  unjust  hatred  against  his  master.  The  act 
of  having  compelled  his  presence  at  the  queen's  dis- 
habille seemed  to  him  a  barbarous  irony,  an  odious 
refinement  of  cruelty,  for  he  did  not  remember  that 
his  love  for  her  could  not  have  been  known  by  the 
king,  who  had  sought  in  him  only  a  confidant  of  easy 
morals  and  a  connoisseur  in  beauty.  That  which  he 
ought  to  have  regarded  as  a  great  favour  affected  him 


KING  CANDAULP:S  127 

like  a  mortal  injury  for  which  he  was  meditating  venge- 
ance. While  thinking  that  to-morrow  the  same  scene 
of  which  he  had  been  a  mute  and  invisible  witness 
would  infallibly  renew  itself,  his  tongue  clove  to  his 
palate,  his  forehead  became  imbeaded  with  drops  of 
cold  sweat,  and  his  hand  convulsively  grasped  the  hilt 
of  his  great  double-edged  sword. 

Nevertheless,  thanks  to  the  freshness  of  the  night, 
that  excellent  counsellor,  he  became  a  little  calmer, 
and  returned  to  Sardes  before  the  morning  light  had 
become  bright  enough  to  enable  a  few  early  rising 
citizens  and  slaves  to  notice  the  pallor  of  his  brow  and 
the  disorder  of  his  apparel.  He  betook  himself  to  his 
regular  post  at  the  palace,  well  suspecting  that  Can- 
daules  would  shortly  send  for  him;  and,  however 
violent  the  agitation  of  his  feelings,  he  felt  he  was  not 
powerful  enough  to  brave  the  anger  of  the  king,  and 
could  in  no  way  escape  submitting  again  to  this  role 
of  confidant,  which  could  thenceforth  only  inspire  him 
with  horror.  Having  arrived  at  the  palace,  he  seated 
himself  upon  the  steps  of  the  cypress-panelled  vestibule, 
leaned  his  back  against  a  column,  and,  under  the 
pretext  of  being  fatigued  by  the  long  vigil  under  arms, 
he  covered  his  head  with  his  mantle  and  feigned  sleep, 
to  avoid  answering  the  questions  of  the  other  guards. 

If  the  night  had  been  terrible  to  Gyges,  it  had  not 
been  less  so  to  Nyssia,  as  she  never  for  an  instant 
doubted  that  he  had  been  purposely  hidden  there  by 
Candaules.     The  king's  persistency  in  begging  her  not 


128  KING  CANDAULES 

to  veil  so  austerely  a  face  which  the  gods  had  made 
for  the  admiration  of  men,  his  evident  vexation  upon 
her  refusal  to  appear  in  Greek  costume  at  the  sacrifices 
and  public  solemnities,  his  unsparing  raillery  at  what 
he  termed  her  barbarian  shyness,  all  tended  to  con- 
vince her  that  the  young  Heracleid  had  sought  to 
admit  some  one  into  those  mysteries  which  should 
remain  secret  to  all,  for  without  his  encouragement  no 
man  could  have  dared  to  risk  himself  in  an  undertak- 
ing the  discovery  of  which  would  have  resulted  in  the 
punishment  of  a  speedy  death. 

How  slowly  did  the  black  hours  seem  to  her  to  pass ! 
How  anxiously  did  she  await  the  coming  of  dawn  to 
mingle  its  bluish  tints  with  the  yellow  gleams  of  the 
almost  exhausted  lamp  !  It  seemed  to  her  that  Apollo 
would  never  mount  his  chariot  again,  and  that  some 
invisible  hand  was  sustaining  the  sand  of  the  hour- 
glass in  air.  Though  brief  as  any  other,  that  night 
seemed  to  her  like  the  Cimmerian  nights,  six  long 
months  of  darkness. 

While  it  lasted  she  lay  motionless  and  rigid  at  full 
length  on  the  very  edge  of  her  couch  in  dread  of  being 
touched  by  Candaules.  If  she  had  not  up  to  that 
night  felt  a  very  strong  love  for  the  son  of  Myrsus,  she 
had,  at  least,  ever  exhi!)ited  toward  him  that  grave 
and  serene  tenderness  which  every  virtuous  woman 
entertains  for  her  husband,  although  the  altogether 
Greek  freedom  of  his  morals  frequently  displeased  her, 
and  though  he  entertained  ideas  at  variance  with  her 


KING  CANDAULES  129 

own  in  regard  to  modesty ;  but  after  such  an  affront 
she  could  only  feel  the  chilliest  hatred  and  most  icy 
contempt  for  him  ;  she  would  have  preferred  even 
death  to  one  of  his  caresses.  Such  an  outrage  it  was 
impossible  to  forgive,  for  among  the  barbarians,  and 
above  all  among  the  Persians  and  Bactrians,  it  was 
held  a  great  disgrace,  not  for  women  only,  but  even  for 
men,  to  be  seen  without  their  garments. 

At  length  Candaules  arose,  and  Nyssia,  awaking 
from  her  simulated  sleep,  hurried  from  that  chamber 
now  profaned  in  her  eyes  as  though  it  had  served  for 
the  nocturnal  orgies  of  Bacchantes  and  courtesans.  It 
was  agony  for  her  to  breathe  that  impure  air  any 
longer,  and  that  she  might  freely  give  herself  up  to  her 
grief  she  took  refuge  in  the  upper  apartments  reserved 
for  the  women,  summoned  her  slaves  by  clapping  her 
hands,  and  poured  ewers  of  water  over  her  shoulders,  her 
bosom,  and  her  whole  body,  as  though  hoping  by  this 
species  of  lustral  ablution  to  efface  the  soil  imprinted 
by  the  eyes  of  Gyges.  She  would  have  voluntarily 
torn,  as  it  were,  from  her  body  that  skin  upon  which 
the  rays  shot  from  a  burning  pupil  seemed  to  have  left 
their  traces.  Taking  from  the  hands  of  her  waiting- 
women  the  thick  downy  materials  which  served  to 
drink  up  the  last  pearls  of  the  bath,  she  wiped  herself 
with  such  violence  that  a  slight  purple  cloud  rose  to 
the  spots  she  had  rubbed. 

'  In  vain,'  she  exclaimed,  letting  the  damp  tissues 
fall,  and  dismissing  her  attendants — 'in  vain  would  I 


I30  KING  CANDAULES 

pour  over  myself  all  the  waters  of  all  Vhe  springs  and 
the  rivers ;  the  ocean  with  all  its  bitter  gulfs  could  not 
purify  me.  Such  a  stain  may  be  washed  out  only  with 
blood.  Oh,  that  look,  that  look !  It  has  incrusted 
itself  upon  me;  it  clasps  me,  covers  me,  burns  me  like 
the  tunic  dipped  in  the  blood  of  Nessus ;  I  feel  it 
beneath  my  draperies,  like  an  envenomed  tissue  which 
nothing  can  detach  from  my  body !  Now,  indeed, 
would  I  vainly  pile  garments  upon  garments,  select 
materials  the  least  transparent,  and  the  thickest  of 
mantles.  I  would  none  the  less  bear  upon  my  naked 
flesh  this  infamous  robe  woven  by  one  adulterous  and 
lascivious  glance.  Vainly,  since  the  hour  when  I  issued 
from  the  chaste  womb  of  my  mother,  have  I  been 
brought  up  in  private,  enveloped,  like  Isis,  the  Egyptian 
goddess,  with  a  veil  of  which  none  might  have  lifted 
the  hem  without  paying  for  his  audacity  with  his  life. 
In  vain  have  I  remained  guarded  from  all  evil  desires, 
from  all  profane  imaginings,  unknown  of  men,  virgin 
as  the  snow  on  which  the  eagle  h'mself  could  not 
imprint  the  seal  of  his  talons,  so  loftily  does  the 
mountain  which  it  covers  lift  its  head  in  the  pure  and 
icy  air.  The  depraved  caprice  of  a  Lydian  Greek  has 
sufficed  to  make  me  lose  in  a  single  instant,  without 
any  guilt  of  mine,  all  the  fruit  of  long  years  of  precau- 
tion and  reserve.  Innocent  and  dishonoured,  hidden 
from  all  yet  made  public  to  all  .  .  .  this  is  the  lot  to 
which  Candaules  has  condemned  me.  Who  can  assure 
me  that,  at  this  very  moment,  Gyges  is  not  in  the  act 


KING  CANDAULES  131 

of  discoursing  upon  my  charms  with  some  soldiers  at 
the  very  threshold  of  the  palace  ?  Oh  shame  !  Oh 
infamy  !  Two  men  have  beheld  me  naked  and  yet  at 
this  instant  enjoy  the  sweet  light  of  the  sun  !  In  what 
does  Nyssia  now  differ  from  the  most  shameless  hetaira, 
from  the  vilest  of  courtesans?  This  body  which  I 
have  striven  to  render  worthy  of  being  the  habitation 
of  a  pure  and  noble  soul,  serves  for  a  theme  of  con- 
versation ;  it  is  talked  of  like  some  lascivious  idol 
brought  from  Sicyon  or  from  Corinth  ;  it  is  commended 
or  found  fault  with.  The  shoulder  is  perfect,  the  arm 
is  charming,  perhaps  a  little  thin — what  know  I  ?  All 
the  blood  of  my  heart  leaps  to  my  cheeks  at  such  a 
thought.  Oh  beauty,  fatal  gift  of  the  gods  !  why  am  I 
not  the  wife  of  some  poor  mountain  goatherd  of 
innocent  and  simple  habits?  He  would  not  have 
suborned  a  goatherd  like  himself  at  the  threshold  of 
his  cabin  to  profane  his  humble  happiness !  My  lean 
figure,  my  unkempt  hair,  my  complexion  faded  by  the 
burning  sun,  would  then  have  saved  me  from  so  gross 
an  insult,  and  my  honest  homeliness  would  not  have 
been  compelled  to  blush.  How  shall  I  dare,  after  the 
scene  of  this  night,  to  pass  before  those  men,  proudly 
erect  under  the  folds  of  a  tunic  which  has  no  longer 
aught  to  hide  from  either  of  them.  I  should  drop  dead 
with  shame  upon  the  pavement.  Candaules,  Candaules, 
I  was  at  least  entitled  to  more  respect  from  you,  and 
there  was  nothing  in  my  conduct  which  could  have 
provoked  such  an  outrage.     Was  I  one  of  those  ones 


132  KING  CANDAULES 

whose  arms  for  ever  cling  like  ivy  to  their  husbands' 
necks,  and  who  seem  more  like  slaves  bought  with 
money  for  a  master's  pleasure  than  free-born  women 
of  noble  blood  ?  Have  I  ever  after  a  repast  sung 
amorous  hymns  accompanying  myself  upon  the  lyre, 
with  wine-moist  lips,  naked  shoulders,  and  a  wreath  of 
roses  about  my  hair,  or  given  you  cause,  by  any 
immodest  action,  to  treat  me  like  a  mistress  whom  one 
shows  after  a  banquet  to  his  companions  in  debauch  ?  ' 
While  Nyssia  was  thus  buried  in  her  grief,  great  tears 
overflowed  from  her  eyes  like  rain-drops  from  the  azure 
chalice  of  a  lotus-flower  after  some  storm,  and  rolling 
down  her  pale  cheeks  fell  upon  her  fair  forlorn  hands, 
languishingly  open,  like  roses  whose  leaves  are  half- 
shed,  for  no  order  came  from  the  brain  to  give  them 
activity.  The  attitude  of  Niobe,  beholding  her  fourteenth 
child  succumb  beneath  the  arrows  of  Apollo  and 
Diana,  was  not  more  sadly  despairing,  but  soon  start- 
ing from  this  state  of  prostration,  she"  rolled  herself 
upon  the  floor,  rent  her  garments,  covered  her  beautiful 
dishevelled  hair  with  ashes,  tore  her  bosom  and  cheeks 
with  her  nails  amid  convulsive  sobs,  and  abandoned 
herself  to  all  the  excesses  of  Oriental  grief,  the  more 
violently  that  she  had  been  forced  so  long  to  contain 
her  indignation,  shame,  pangs  of  wounded  dignity,  and 
all  the  agony  that  convulsed  her  soul,  for  the  pride  of 
her  whole  life  had  been  broken,  and  the  idea  that  she 
had  nothing  wherewith  to  reproach  herself  aff"orded  her 
no  consolation.     As  a  poet  has  said,  only  the  innocent 


KING  CANDAULES  133 

know  remorse.  She  was  repenting  of  the  crime  which 
another  had  committed. 

Nevertheless  she  made  an  effort  to  recover  herself, 
ordered  the  baskets  filled  with  wools  of  different  colours, 
and  the  spindles  wrapped  with  flax,  to  be  brought  to 
her,  and  distributed  the  work  to  her  women  as  she  had 
been  accustomed  to  do ;  but  she  thought  she  noticed 
that  the  slaves  looked  at  her  in  a  very  peculiar  way, 
and  had  ceased  to  entertain  the  same  timid  respect  for 
her  as  before.  Her  voice  no  longer  rang  with  the  same 
assurance ;  there  was  something  humble  and  furtive  in 
her  demeanour;  she  felt  herself  interiorly  fallen. 

Doubtless  her  scruples  were  exaggerated,  and  her 
virtue  had  received  no  stain  from  the  folly  of  Candaules ; 
but  ideas  imbibed  with  a  mother's  milk  obtain  irre- 
sistible sway,  and  the  modesty  of  the  body  is  carried 
by  Oriental  nations  to  an  extent  almost  incomprehen- 
sible to  Occidental  races.  When  a  man  desired  to 
speak  to  Nyssia  in  the  palace  of  Megabazus  at  Bactria, 
he  was  obliged  to  do  so  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  ground,  and  two  eunuchs  stood  beside  him,  poniard 
in  hand,  ready  to  plunge  their  keen  blades  through  his 
heart  should  he  dare  lift  his  head  to  look  at  the 
princess,  notwithstanding  that  her  face  was  veiled.  You 
may  readily  conceive,  therefore,  how  deadly  an  injury 
the  action  of  Candaules  would  seem  to  a  woman  thus 
brought  up,  while  any  other  would  doubtless  have  con- 
sidered it  only  a  culpable  frivolity  Thus  the  idea  of 
vengeance  had  instantly  presented  itself  to  Nyssia,  and 


134  KING  CANDAULES 

had  given  her  sufficient  self-control  to  strangle  the  cry 
of  her  offended  modesty  ere  it  reached  her  lips,  at  the 
moment  when,  turning  her  head,  she  beheld  the  burn- 
ing eyes  of  Gyges  flaming  through  the  darkness.  She 
must  have  possessed  the  courage  of  the  warrior  in 
ambush,  who,  wounded  by  a  random  dart,  utters  no 
syllable  of  pain  through  fear  of  betraying  himself  behind 
his  shelter  of  foliage  or  river-reeds,  and  in  silence  per- 
mits his  blood  to  stripe  his  flesh  with  long  red  lines. 
Had  she  not  withheld  that  first  impulse  to  cry  aloud, 
Candaules,  alarmed  and  forewarned,  would  have  kept 
upon  his  guard,  which  must  have  rendered  it  more 
difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  carry  out  her  purpose. 

Nevertheless,  as  yet  she  had  conceived  no  definite 
plan,  but  she  had  resolved  that  the  insult  done  to  her 
honour  should  be  fully  expiated.  At  first  she  had 
thought  of  killing  Candaules  herself  while  he  slept,  with 
the  sword  hung  at  the  bedside.  But  she  recoiled  from 
the  thought  of  dipping  her  beautiful  hands  in  blood ; 
she  feared  lest  she  might  miss  her  blow ;  and,  with  all 
her  bitter  anger,  she  hesitated  at  so  violent  and  un- 
womanly an  act. 

Suddenly  she  appeared  to  have  decided  upon  some 
project.  She  summoned  Statira,  one  of  the  waiting- 
women  who  had  come  with  her  from  Bactria,  and  in 
whom  she  placed  much  confidence,  and  whispered  a 
few  words  close  to  her  ear  in  a  very  low  voice,  although 
there  were  no  other  persons  in  the  room,  as  if  she 
feared  that  even  the  wails  might  hear  her. 


KING  CANDAULES  135 

■  Statira  bowed  low,  and  immediately  left  the  apart- 
ment. 

Like  all  persons  who  are  actually  menaced  by  some 
great  peril,  Candaules  presumed  himself  perfectly 
secure.  He  was  certain  that  Gyges  had  stolen  away 
unperceived,  and  he  thought  only  upon  the  delight  of 
conversing  with  him  about  the  unrivalled  attractions  of 
his  wife. 

So  he  caused  him  to  be  summoned,  and  conducted 
him  to  the  Court  of  the  Heracleidse. 

'Well,  Gyges,'  he  said  to  him  with  laughing  mien, 
*  I  did  not  deceive  you  when  I  assured  you  that  you 
would  not  regret  having  passed  a  few  hours  behind 
that  blessed  door.  Am  I  right?  Do  you  know  of  any 
living  woman  more  beautiful  than  the  queen  ?  If  you 
know  of  any  superior  to  her,  tell  me  so  frankly,  and  go 
bear  her  in  my  name  this  string  of  pearls,  the  symbol 
of  power.' 

'Sire,'  replied  Gyges  in  a  voice  trembling  with 
emotion,  'no  human  creature  is  worthy  to  compare 
with  Nyssia.  It  is  not  the  pearl  fillet  of  queens  which 
should  adorn  her  brows,  but  only  the  starry  crown  of 
the  immortals.' 

'  I  well  knew  that  your  ice  must  melt  at  last  in  the 
fires  of  that  sun.  Now  can  you  comprehend  my  pas- 
sion, my  delirium,  my  mad  desires?  Is  it  not  true, 
Gyges,  that  the  heart  of  a  man  is  not  great  enough  to 
contain  such  a  love?  It  must  overflow  and  diffuse 
itself 


136  KING  CANDAULES 

A  hot  blush  overspread  the  cheeks  of  Gyges,  who 
now  but  too  well  comprehended  the  admiration  of 
Candaules. 

The  king  noticed  it,  and  said,  with  a  manner  half 
smiling,  half  serious : 

'  My  poor  friend,  do  not  commit  the  folly  of  becom- 
ing enamoured  of  Nyssia ;  you  would  lose  your  pains. 
It  is  a  statue  which  I  have  enabled  you  to  see,  not  a 
woman.  I  have  allowed  you  to  read  some  stanzas  of  a 
beautiful  poem,  whereof  I  alone  possess  the  manuscript, 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  having  your  opinion;  that 
is  all.' 

'You  have  no  need,  sire,  to  remind  me  of  my 
nothingness.  Sometimes  the  humblest  slave  is  visited 
in  his  slumbers  by  some  radiant  and  lovely  vision,  with 
ideal  forms,  nacreous  flesh,  ambrosial  hair.  I — I  have 
dreamed  with  open  eyes;  you  are  the  god  who  sent 
me  that  dream.' 

*  Now,'  continued  the  king,  '  it  will  scarcely  be 
necessary  for  me  to  enjoin  silence  upon  you.  If  you 
do  not  keep  a  seal  upon  your  lips  you  might  learn 
to  your  cost  that  Nyssia  is  not  as  good  as  she  is 
beautiful.' 

The  king  waved  his  hand  in  token  of  farewell  to  his 
confidant,  and  retired  for  the  purpose  of  inspecting  an 
antique  bed  sculptured  by  Ikmalius,  a  celebrated  artisan, 
which  had  been  offered  him  for  purchase. 

Candaules  had  scarcely  disappeared  when  a  woman, 
wrapped  in  a  long  mantle  so  as  10  leave  but  one  oi 


KING  CANDAULES  137 

her  eyes  exposed,  after  the  fashion  of  the  barbarians, 
came  forth  from  the  shadow  of  a  column  behind  which 
she  had  kept  herself  hidden  during  the  conversation  of 
the  king  and  his  favourite,  walked  straight  to  Gyges, 
placed  her  finger  upon  his  shoulder,  and  made  a  sign 
to  him  to  follow  her. 


CHAPTER  V 

Statira,  followed  by  Gyges,  paused  before  a  little 
door,  of  which  she  raised  the  latch  by  pulling  a  silver 
ring  attached  to  a  leathern  strap,  and  commenced  to 
ascend  a  stairway  with  rather  high  steps  contrived  in 
the  thickness  of  the  wall.  At  the  head  of  the  stairway 
was  a  second  door,  which  she  opened  with  a  key 
wrought  of  ivory  and  brass.  As  soon  as  Gyges  entered 
she  disappeared  without  any  further  explanation  in 
regard  to  what  was  expected  of  him. 

The  curiosity  of  Gyges  was  mingled  with  uneasiness. 
He  could  form  no  idea  as  to  the  significance  of  this  mys- 
terious message.  He  had  a  vague  fancy  that  he  could 
recognise  in  the  silent  Iris  one  of  Nyssia's  women  ; 
and  the  way  by  which  she  had  made  him  follow  her  led 
to  the  queen's  apartments.  He  asked  himself  in  terror 
whether  he  had  been  perceived  in  his  hiding-place  or 
betrayed  by  Candaules,  for  both  suppositions  seemed 
probable. 

At  the  idea  that  Nyssia  knew  all,  he  felt  his  face 


138  KING  CANDAULES 

bedewed  with  a  sweat  alternately  burning  and  icy.  He 
sought  to  fly,  but  the  door  had  been  fastened  upon 
him  by  Statira,  and  all  escape  was  cut  off;  then  he 
advanced  into  the  chamber,  which  was  shadowed  by 
heavy  purple  hangings,  and  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  Nyssia.  He  thought  he  beheld  a  statue  rise 
before  him,  such  was  her  pallor.  The  hues  of  life  had 
abandoned  her  face ;  a  feeble  rose  tint  alone  animated 
her  lips ;  on  her  tender  temples  a  few  almost  imper- 
ceptible veins  intercrossed  their  azure  network ;  tears 
had  swollen  her  eyelids,  and  left  shining  furrows  upon 
the  down  of  her  cheeks  ;  the  chrysoprase  tints  of  her 
eyes  had  lost  their  intensity.  She  was  even  more 
beautiful  and  touching  thus.  Sorrow  had  given  soul  to 
her  raarmorean  beauty. 

Her  disordered  robe,  scarcely  fastened  to  her 
shoulders,  left  visible  her  beautiful  bare  arms,  her 
throat,  and  the  commencement  of  her  death-white 
bosom.  Like  a  warrior  vanquished  in  his  first  conflict, 
her  beauty  had  laid  down  its  arms.  Of  what  use  to  her 
would  have  been  the  draperies  which  conceal  form,  the 
tunics  with  their  carefully  fastened  folds?  Did  not 
Gyges  know  her  ?  Wherefore  defend  what  has  been 
lost  in  advance  ? 

She  walked  straight  to  Gyges,  and  fixing  upon  him 
an  imperial  look,  clear  and  commanding,  said  to  him 
in  a  quick,  abrupt  voice  : 

'  Do  not  lie  ;  seek  no  vain  subterfuges  ;  have  at  least 
the  dignity  and  courage  of  your  crime.     I  know  all ;  I 


KING  CANDAULES  139 

saw  you !  Not  a  word  of  excuse.  I  would  not  listen 
to  it.  Candaules  himself  concealed  you  behind  the 
door.  Is  it  not  so  the  thing  happened?  And  you 
fancy,  doubtless,  that  it  is  all  over  ?  Unhappily  I  am 
not  a  Greek  woman,  pliant  to  the  whims  of  artists  and 
voluptuaries.  Nyssia  will  not  serve  for  any  one's  toy. 
There  are  now  two  men,  one  of  whom  is  a  man  too 
much  upon  the  earth.  He  must  disappear  from  it ! 
Unless  he  dies,  I  cannot  live.  It  will  be  either  you  or 
Candaules.  I  leave  you  master  of  the  choice.  Kill 
him,  avenge  me,  and  win  by  that  murder  both  my  hand 
and  the  throne  of  Lydia,  or  else  shall  a  prompt  death 
henceforth  prevent  you  from  beholding,  through  a 
cowardly  complaisance,  what  you  have  not  the  right  to 
look  upon.  He  who  commanded  is  more  culpable 
than  he  who  has  only  obeyed ;  and,  moreover,  should 
you  become  my  husband,  no  one  will  have  ever  seen 
me  without  having  the  right  to  do  so.  But  make  your 
decision  at  once,  for  two  of  those  four  eyes  in  v/hich  my 
nudity  has  reflected  itself  must  before  this  very  evening 
be  for  ever  extinguished.' 

This  strange  alternative,  proposed  with  a  terrible 
coolness,  with  an  immutable  resolution,  so  utterly  sur- 
prised Gyges,  who  was  expecting  reproaches,  menaces, 
and  a  violent  scene,  that  he  remained  for  several 
minutes  without  colour  and  without  voice,  livid  as  a 
shade  on  the  shores  of  the  blark  rivers  of  hell. 

'  I !  to  dip  my  hands  in  the  blood  of  my  master  ! 
Is  it  indeed  you,  O  queen,  who  demand  of  me  so  great 

L 


I40  KING  CANDAULES 

a  penalty?  I  comprehend  all  your  anger,  I  feel  it  to  be 
just,  and  it  was  not  my  fault  that  this  outrage  took 
place;  but  you  know  that  kings  are  mighty,  they 
descend  from  a  divine  race.  Our  destinies  repose  on 
their  august  knees ;  and  it  is  not  we,  feeble  mortals, 
who  may  hesitate  at  their  commands.  Their  will  over- 
throws our  refusal,  as  a  dyke  is  swept  away  by  a  torrent. 
By  your  feet  that  I  kiss,  by  the  hem  of  your  robe  which 
I  touch  as  a  suppliant,  be  clement !  Forget  this  injury, 
which  is  known  to  none,  and  which  shall  remain  eternally 
buried  in  darkness  and  silence !  Candaules  worships 
you,  admires  you,  and  his  fault  springs  only  from  an 
ex'cess  of  love.' 

'  Were  you  addressing  a  sphinx  of  granite  in  the  arid 
sands  of  Egypt,  you  would  have  more  chance  of  melting 
her.  The  winged  words  might  fly  uninterruptedly  from 
your  lips  for  a  whole  Olympiad  ;  you  could  not  move 
my  resolution  in  the  slightest.  A  heart  of  brass  dwells 
in  this  marble  breast  of  mine.  Die  or  kill !  When  the 
sunbeam  which  has  passed  through  the  curtains  shall 
touch  the  foot  of  this  table  let  your  choice  have  been 
made.     I  wait.' 

And  Nyssia  crossed  her  arms  upon  her  breast  in  an 
attitude  replete  with  sombre  majesty. 

To  behold  her  standing  erect,  motionless  and  pale, 
her  eyes  fixed,  her  brows  contracted,  her  hair  in  dis- 
order, her  foot  firmly  placed  upon  the  pavement,  one 
would  have  taken  her  for  Nemesis  descended  from  her 
griffin,  and  awaiting  the  hour  to  smite  a  guilty  one. 


KING  CANDAULES  141 

*  The  shadowy  depths  of  Hades  are  visited  by  none 
Avith  pleasure,'  answered  Gyges.  '  It  is  sweet  to  enjoy 
the  pure  light  of  day ;  and  the  heroes  themselves  who 
dwell  in  the  Fortunate  Isles  would  gladly  return  to 
their  native  land.  Each  man  has  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation,  and  since  blood  must  flow,  let  it  be  rather 
from  the  veins  of  another  than  from  mine.' 

To  these  sentiments,  avowed  by  Gyges  with  antique 
frankness,  were  added  others  more  noble  whereof  he 
did  not  speak.  He  was  desperately  in  love  with  Nyssia 
and  jealous  of  Candaules.  It  was  not,  therefore,  the 
fear  of  death  alone  that  had  induced  him  to  undertake 
this  bloody  task.  The  thought  of  leaving  Candaules 
in  free  possession  of  Nyssia  was  insupportable  to  him  : 
and,  moreover,  the  vertigo  of  fatality  had  seized  him. 
By  a  succession  of  irregular  and  terrible  events  he 
beheld  himself  hurried  toward  the  realisation  of  his 
dreams ;  a  mighty  wave  had  lifted  him  and  borne  him 
on  in  despite  of  his  efforts  ;  Nyssia  herself  was  extend- 
ing her  h;md  to  him,  to  help  him  to  ascend  the  steps 
of  the  royal  throne.  All  this  had  caused  him  to  forget 
that  Candaules  was  his  master  and  his  benefactor ;  for 
none  can  flee  from  Fate,  and  Necessity  walks  on  with 
nails  in  one  hand  and  whip  in  the  other,  to  stop  your 
advance  or  to  urge  you  forward. 

'  It  is  well,'  replied  Nyssia ;  '  here  is  the  means  of 
execution.'  And  she  drew  from  her  bosom  a  Bactrian 
poniard,  with  a  jade  handle  enriched  with  inlaid  circles 
of  white  gold.     '  This  blade  is  not  made  of  brass,  but 


142  KING  CANDAULES 

with  iron  difificult  to  work,  tempered  in  flame  and 
water,  so  that  Hephaistos  himself  could  not  forge  one 
more  keenly  pointed  or  finely  edged.  It  would  pierce, 
like  thin  papyrus,  metal  cuirasses  and  bucklers  of 
dragon's  skin. 

*  The  time,'  she  continued,  with  the  same  icy  coolness, 
'  shall  be  while  he  slumbers.  Let  him  sleep  and  wake 
no  more ! ' 

Her  accomplice,  Gyges,  hearkened  to  her  words  with 
stupefaction,  for  he  had  never  thought  he  could  find 
such  resolution  in  a  woman  who  could  not  bring  herself 
to  lift  her  veil. 

'  The  ambuscade  shall  be  laid  in  the  very  same  place 
where  the  infamous  one  concealed  you  in  order  to 
expose  me  to  your  gaze.  At  the  approach  of  night  I 
shall  turn  back  one  of  the  folding-doors  upon  you,  un- 
dress myself,  lie  down,  and  when  he  shall  be  asleep  I 
will  give  you  a  signal.  Above  all  things,  let  there  be 
no  hesitancy,  no  feebleness ;  and  take  heed  that  your 
hand  does  not  tremble  when  the  moment  shall  have 
come !  And  now,  for  fear  lest  you  might  change 
your  mind,  I  propose  to  make  sure  of  your  person  until 
the  fatal  hour.  You  might  attempt  to  escape,  to  fore- 
warn your  master.     Do  not  think  to  do  so.' 

Nyssia  whistled  in  a  peculiar  way,  and  immediately 
from  behind  a  Persian  tapestry  embroidered  with 
flowers,  there  appeared  four  monsters,  swarthy,  clad  in 
robes  diagonally  striped,  which  left  visible  arms 
muscled  and  gnarled  as  trunks  of  oaks.     Their  thick 


KING  CANDAULES  143 

pouting  lips,  the  gold  rings  which  they  wore  through  the 
partition  of  their  nostrils,  their  great  teeth  sharp  as  the 
fangs  of  wolves,  the  expression  of  stupid  servility  on 
their  faces,  rendered  them  hideous  to  behold. 

The  queen  pronounced  some  words  in  a  language 
unknown  to  Gyges,  doubtless  in  Bactrian,  and  the  four 
slaves  rushed  upon  the  young  man,  seized  him,  and 
carried  him  away,  even  as  a  nurse  might  carry  off 
a  child  in  the  fold  of  her  robe. 

Now,  what  were  Nyssia's  real  thoughts  ?  Had  she, 
indeed,  noticed  Gyges  at  the  time  of  her  meeting  with 
him  near  Bactria,  and  preserved  some  memory  of  the 
young  captain  in  one  of  those  secret  recesses  of  the 
heart  where  even  the  most  virtuous  women  always  have 
something  buried  ?  Was  the  desire  to  avenge  her 
modesty  goaded  by  some  other  unacknowledged  desire? 
And  if  Gyges  had  not  been  the  handsomest  young  man 
in  all  Asia  would  she  have  evinced  the  same  ardour  in 
punishing  Candaules  for  having  outraged  the  sanctity 
of  marriage  ?  That  is  a  delicate  question  to  resolve, 
especially  after  a  lapse  of  three  thousand  years;  and 
although  we  have  consulted  Herodotus,  Hephaestion, 
Plato,  Dositheus,  Archilochus  of  Paros,  Hesychius  of 
Miletus,  Ptolomasus,  Euphorion,  and  all  who  have 
spoken  either  at  length  or  in  only  a  few  words  con- 
cerning Candaules,  Nyssia,  and  Gyges,  we  have  been 
unable  to  arrive  at  any  definite  conclusion.  To  pursue 
so  fleeting  a  shadow  through  so  many  centuries,  under 
the  ruins  of  so  many  ciumpled  empires,  under  the  dust 

l2 


144  KING  CANDAULES 

of  departed  nations,  is  a  work  of  extreme  difficulty,  not 
to  say  impossibility. 

At  all  events,  Nyssia's  resolution  was  implacably 
taken ;  this  murder  appeared  to  her  in  the  light  of  the 
accomplishment  of  a  sacred  duty.  Among  the  bar- 
barian nations  every  man  who  has  surprised  a  woman 
in  her  nakedness  is  put  to  death.  The  queen  believed 
herself  exercising  her  right ;  only  inasmuch  as  the 
injury  had  been  secret,  she  was  doing  herself  justice  as 
best  she  could.  The  passive  accomplice  would  become 
the  executioner  of  the  other,  and  the  punishment 
would  thus  spring  from  the  crime  itself.  The  hand 
would  chastise  the  head. 

The  olive-tinted  monsters  shut  Gyges  up  in  an 
obscure  portion  of  the  palace,  whence  it  was  impossible 
that  he  could  escape,  or  that  his  cries  could  be 
heard. 

He  passed  the  remainder  of  the  day  there  in  a  state 
of  cruel  anxiety,  accusing  the  hours  of  being  lame,  and 
again  of  walking  too  speedily.  The  crime  which  he 
was  about  to  commit,  although  he  was  only,  in  some 
sort,  the  instrument  of  it,  and  though  he  was  only  yield- 
ing to  an  irresistible  influence,  presented  itself  to  his 
mind  in  the  most  sombre  colours.  If  the  blow  should 
miss  through  one  of  those  circumstances  which  none 
could  foresee  ?  If  the  people  of  Sardes  should  revolt 
and  seek  to  avenge  the  death  of  the  king  .''  Such  were 
the  very  sensible  though  useless  reflections  which  Gyges 
made  while  waiting  to  be  taken  from  his  prison  and  led 


KING  CANDAULES  145 

to  the  place  whence  he  could  only  depart  to  strike  his 
master. 

At  last  the  night  unfolded  her  starry  robe  in  the  sky, 
and  its  shadow  fell  upon  the  city  and  the  palace.  A 
light  footstep  became  audible,  a  veiled  woman  entered 
the  room  and  conducted  him  through  the  obscure 
corridors  and  multiplied  mazes  of  the  royal  edifice  with 
as  much  confidence  as  though  she  had  been  preceded 
by  a  slave  bearing  a  lamp  or  a  torch. 

The  hand  which  held  that  of  Gyges  was  cold,  soft, 
and  small ;  nevertheless  those  slender  fingers  clasped 
it  with  a  bruising  force,  as  the  fingers  of  some  statue  of 
brass  animated  by  a  prodigy  would  have  done.  The 
rigidity  of  an  inflexible  will  betrayed  itself  in  that  ever- 
equal  pressure  as  of  a  vice — a  pressure  which  no  hesita- 
tion of  head  or  heart  came  to  vary.  Gyges,  conquered, 
subjugated,  crushed,  yielded  to  that  imperious  traction, 
as  though  he  were  borne  along  by  the  mighty  arm 
of  Fate. 

Alas  !  it  was  not  thus  he  had  wished  to  touch  for  the 
first  time  that  fair  royal  hand,  which  had  presented  the 
poniard  to  him,  and  was  leading  him  to  murder,  for  it 
was  Nyssia  herself  who  had  come  for  Gyges,  to  conceal 
him  in  the  place  of  ambuscade. 

No  word  was  exchanged  between  the  sinister  couple 
on  the  way  from  the  prison  to  the  nuptial  chamber. 

The  queen  unfastened  the  thongs,  raised  the'  bar  of 
the  entrance,  and  placed  Gyges  behind  the  folding-door 
as  Candaules  had  done  the  evening  previous.     This 


146  KING  CANDAULES 

repetition  of  the  same  acts,  with  so  different  a  purpose, 
had  something  of  a  lugubrious  and  fatal  character. 
Vengeance,  this  time,  had  placed  her  foot  upon  every 
track  left  by  the  insult.  The  chastisement  and  the 
crime  alike  followed  the  same  path.  Yesterday  it  was 
the  turn  of  Candaules,  to-day  it  was  that  of  Nyssia ; 
and  Gyges,  accomplice  in  the  injury,  was  also  accom- 
plice in  the  penalty.  He  had  served  the  king  to 
dishonour  the  queen ;  he  would  serve  the  queen  to  kill 
the  king,  equally  exposed  by  the  vices  of  the  one  and 
the  virtues  of  the  other. 

The  daughter  of  Megabazus  seemed  to  feel  a  savage 
joy,  a  ferocious  pleasure,  in  employing  only  the  same 
means  chosen  by  the  Lydian  king,  and  turning  to 
account  for  the  murder  those  very  precautions  which 
had  been  adopted  for  voluptuous  fantasy. 

'  You  will  again  this  evening  see  me  take  off  these 
garments  which  are  so  displeasing  to  Candaules.  This 
spectacle  should  become  wearisome  to  you,'  said  the 
queen  in  accents  of  bitter  irony,  as  she  stood  on  the 
threshold  of  the  chamber;  'you  will  end  by  finding 
me  ugly.'  And  a  sardonic,  forced  laugh  momentarily 
curled  her  pale  mouth  ;  then,  regaining  her  impassible 
severity  of  mien,  she  continued :  '  Do  not  imagine 
you  will  be  able  to  steal  away  this  time  as  you  did 
before ;  you  know  my  sight  is  piercing.  At  the 
slightest  movement  on  your  part  I  shall  awake  Can- 
daules ;  and  you  know  tliat  it  will  not  be  easy  for  you 
to   explain  what    you  are  doing  in  the  king's   apart- 


KING  CANDAULES  147 

ments,  behind  a  door,  with  a  poniard  in  your  hand. 
Further,  my  Bactrian  slaves,  the  copper-coloured  mutes 
who  imprisoned  you  a  short  time  ago,  guard  all  the 
issues  of  the  palace,  with  orders  to  massacre  you 
should  you  attempt  to  go  out.  Therefore  let  no  vain 
scruples  of  fidelity  cause  you  to  hesitate.  Think  that 
I  will  make  you  King  of  Sardes,  and  that  ...  I  will 
love  you  if  you  avenge  me.  The  blood  of  Candaules 
will  be  your  purple,  and  his  death  will  make  for  you  a 
place  in  that  bed.' 

The  slaves  came  according  to  their  custom  to 
change  the  fuel  in  the  tripod,  renew  the  oil  in  the 
lamps,  spread  tapestry  and  the  skins  of  animals  upon 
the  royal  couch ;  and  Nyssia  hurried  into  the  chamber 
as  soon  as  she  heard  their  footsteps  resounding  in  the 
distance. 

In  a  short  time  Candaules  arrived  all  joyous.  He 
had  purchased  the  bed  of  Ikmalius  and  proposed  to 
substitute  it  for  the  bed  wrought  after  the  Oriental 
fashion,  which  he  declared  had  never  been  much  to 
his  taste.  He  seemed  pleased  to  find  that  Nyssia  had 
already  retired  to  the  nuptial  chamber. 

'  The  trade  of  embroidery,  and  spindles,  and  needles 
seems  not  to  have  the  same  attraction  for  you  to-day 
as  usual.  In  fact,  it  is  a  monotonous  labour  to  per- 
petually pass  one  thread  between  other  threads,  and  I 
wonder  at  the  pleasure  which  you  seem  ordinarily  to 
take  in  it.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  am  afraid  that  some 
fine  day  Pallas-Athene,  on  finding  you  so  skilful,  will 


148  KING  CANDAULES 

break  her  shuttle  over  your  head  as  she  once  did  to 
poor  Arachne.' 

'  My  lord,  I  felt  somewhat  tired  this  evening,  and  so 
came  downstairs  sooner  than  usual.  Would  you  not 
like  before  going  to  sleep  to  drink  a  cup  of  black 
Samian  wine  mixed  with  the  honey  of  Hymettus?' 
And  she  poured  from  a  golden  urn,  into  a  cup  of  the 
same  metal,  the  sombre-coloured  beverage  which  she 
had  mingled  with  the  soporiferous  juice  of  the 
nepenthe. 

Candaules  took  the  cup  by  both  handles  and  drained 
it  to  the  last  drop;  but  the  young  Heracleid  had  a 
strong  head,  and  sinking  his  elbow  into  the  cushions 
of  his  couch  he  watched  Nyssia  undressing  without 
any  sign  that  the  dust  of  sleep  was  commencing  to 
gather  upon  his  eyes. 

As  on  the  evening  before,  Nyssia  unfastened  her 
hair  and  permitted  its  rich  blond  waves  to  ripple 
over  her  shoulders.  From  his  hiding-place  Gyges 
fancied  that  he  saw  those  locks  slowly  becoming 
suffused  with  tawny  tints,  illuminated  with  reflections 
of  blood  and  flame ;  and  their  heavy  curls  seemed  to 
lengthen  with  viperine  undulations,  like  the  hair  of  the 
Gorgons  and  Medusas. 

All  simple  and  graceful  as  that  action  was  in  itself, 
it  took  from  the  terrible  events  about  to  transpire  a 
frightful  and  ominous  character,  wliich  caused  the 
hidden  assassin  to  shudder  with  terror. 

Nyssia  then  unfastened  her  bracelets,  but  agitated 


KING  CANDAULES  149 

as  her  hands  had  been  by  nervous  straining,  they  ill 
served  her  will.  She  broke  the  string  of  a  bracelet  of 
beads  of  amber  inlaid  with  gold,  which  rolled  over  the 
floor  with  a  loud  noise,  causing  Candaules  to  reopen 
his  gradually  closing  eyes. 

Each  one  of  those  beads  fell  upon  the  heart  of 
Gyges  as  a  drop  of  molten  lead  falls  upon  water. 

Having  unlaced  her  buskins,  the  queen  threw  her 
upper  tunic  over  the  back  of  an  ivory  chair.  This 
drapery,  thus  arranged,  produced  upon  Gyges  the 
effect  of  one  oi  those  sinister-folding  Avinding-sheets 
wherein  the  dead  were  wrapped  ere  being  borne  to 
the  funeral  pyre.  Every  object  in  that  room,  which 
had  the  evening  before  seemed  to  him  one  scene  of 
smiling  splendour,  now  appeared  to  him  livid,  dim, 
and  menacing.  The  statues  of  basalt  rolled  their  eyes 
and  smiled  hideouslj^.  The  lamp  flickered  Aveirdly, 
and  its  flame  dishevelled  itself  in  red  and  sanguine 
rays  like  the  crest  of  a  comet.  Far  back  in  the  dimly 
lighted  corners  loomed  the  monstrous  forms  of  the 
Lares  and  Lemures.  The  mantles  hanging  from  their 
hooks  seemed  animated  by  a  factitious  life,  and 
assumed  a  human  aspect  of  vitality ;  and  when  Nyssia 
stripped  of  her  last  garment,  approached  the  bed,  all 
white  and  naked  as  a  shade,  he  thought  that  Death 
herself  had  broken  the  diamond  fetters  wherewith 
Hercules  of  old  enchained  her  at  the  gates  of  hell 
when  he  delivered  Alcestes,  and  had  come  in  person 
to  take  possession  of  Cundaules. 


150  KING  CANDAULES 

Overcome  by  the  power  of  the  nepenthe-juice,  the 
king  at  last  slumbered.  Nyssia  made  a  sign  for  Gyges 
to  come  forth  from  his  retreat ;  and  laying  her  finger 
upon  the  breast  of  the  victim,  she  directed  upon  her 
accomplice  a  look  so  humid,  so  lustrous,  so  weighty 
with  languishment,  so  replete  with  intoxicating  promise, 
that  Gyges,  maddened  and  fascinated,  sprang  from  his 
hiding-place  like  the  tiger  from  the  summit  of  the  rock 
where  it  has  been  couching,  traversed  the  chamber  at 
a  bound,  and  plunged  the  Bactrian  poniard  up  to  the 
very  hilt  in  the  heart  of  the  descendant  of  Hercules. 
The  chastity  of  Nyssia  was  avenged,  and  the  dream  of 
Gyges  accomplished. 

Thus  ended  the  dynasty  of  the  Heracleidae,  after 
having  endured  for  five  hundred  and  five  years,  and 
commenced  that  of  the  Mermnades  in  the  person  of 
Gyges,  son  of  Dascylus.  The  Sardians,  indignant  at 
the  death  of  Candaules,  threatened  revolt;  but  the 
oracle  of  Delphi  having  declared  in  favour  of  Gyges, 
who  had  sent  thither  a  vast  number  of  silver  vases  and 
six  golden  cratera  of  the  value  of  thirty  talents,  the 
new  king  maintained  his  seat  on  the  throne  of  Lydia, 
which  he  occupied  for  many  long  years,  lived  happily, 
and  never  showed  his  wife  to  any  one,  knowing  too 
well  what  it  cost. 


Frinted  by  T.  and  A.  Constable,  Printers  to  His  Majesty 
at  the  Edinburgh  University  Press 


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